


Go Bravely On

by Angst_BuriTTo



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Science, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang, Captain America Steve Rogers, Complete, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multiverse, Past Child Abuse, Prosthesis, Recovery, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Wakanda setting, White Wolf Bucky Barnes, as usual, bucky’s goats, endgame what endagame, four prosthetic limbs on an OC, multiverse characters, perceived character death, thats different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angst_BuriTTo/pseuds/Angst_BuriTTo
Summary: Steve Rogers died saving the universe and bringing back the dusted, leaving Bucky behind to mourn and self-destruct. Despite the efforts of the team to help him heal, he enters a downward spiral of hurt and despair that affects everyone around him.Six months later, when things finally seem to be getting better, a visitor arrives that throws his still-fragile world sideways, and maybe, just possibly, gives him hope that not all is what it seems.COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note :  
This has been quite the adventure, writing this story. I may have finished writing it in 28 days and ended up with my longest story I’ve written in my entire life, but I couldn’t have done it without my two AMAZING betas; Lillaby, and Kuja. This fic wouldn’t be what it is without their help and patience, and I owe them TONS.
> 
> I want to thank my two artists, who have been INCREDIBLE and make GORGEOUS art, [LiquidLightz ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLightz/) and [AmberDreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/). I also want to thank the Cap BB community for all your support, and the Mods and their endless amounts of patience with me along the way. 
> 
> This is going to be my last fic in this fandom for quite awhile, possibly my last one, period, for quite a while, since I’m going to be finishing stories before I publish them from now on, and I’m currently working on multiple fics for multiple fandoms. I am NOT abandoning any of my fics at the moment, but I will say that coming up next September, I’m going back to school to get college pre-reqs and, as such, will have much less time to write. 
> 
> I hope you all like the story, I put my heart and soul into it!
> 
> Ps. I will be changing my username to Angst_BuriTTo after this fic is posted, hence the cover art name.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/housefullofbooks/48958128123/in/dateposted/)

Cover Art by [AmberDreams ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174998) (Click for link to AO3 art Post)

  


* * *

Steve had been dead for three weeks.

Three weeks since the battle with Thanos on the fields of Wakanda, three weeks of cleaning up corpses, shifting rubble and contacting the families of the deceased.

Three weeks since Steve disintegrated in a flash of white.

Three weeks since he took his last breath.

Three weeks since they laid his shield, the only thing left of him, to rest in Wakanda’s new Tomb of Heroes.

Three weeks of numbness that covered Bucky’s mind and body like a thick glove, every movement, every breath restrictive and tight.

Natalia had tried to get him to come back to the palace with her and the others, but he ignored her until she let it go, deciding to instead follow alongside him as he helped with the efforts to clear the battlefield.

Stark tried to lure him back with the excuse that his arm needed to be checked out after the big battle. Bucky knew that it was probably true, and that Stark was extending an olive branch, but Bucky wasn’t ready to grasp that fragile twig just yet.

Sam tried to reason with him, saying Steve would want him to rest and not work himself to death. Bucky ignored Sam completely.

Clint tried to tempt him with coffee and food, but Bucky didn’t even bother to acknowledge him.

It had been ages since Bucky had felt so close to the Asset, that blank slate that simply went wherever he was directed, without any emotion to fill the empty spaces. The numbness stopped him from feeling what he distantly knew was agony; so crippling that it threatened to destroy all the progress he had gained from his two years of therapy in Wakanda.

After four weeks of emptiness, Natalia apparently had enough of Bucky’s lack of…everything.

He turned his back on her for a moment, his stomach rumbling from lack of food, and he felt the prick of a needle in his neck.

He couldn’t even bring himself to feel betrayed before everything went blurry, then dark.

* * *

He woke up sluggish, his stomach cramped and his mouth fuzzy. The beeping of a heart monitor sounded dull in his ears, and he could feel the effects of Wakandan painkillers in the slowness of his body and thoughts.

It took him a few moments to remember how he had gotten here, lying in the bed of his own personal recovery room in the palace. When he did, Bucky clenched his eyes shut, letting out a shuddering breath. He felt every one of his 101 years.

“You should have let me keep going, Natashenka.” Bucky rasped, knowing without looking that she was sitting at his bedside.

He would have done the same for her.

“You would have killed yourself continuing on like that, James.” The woman replied. Bucky could hear the worry in her voice, and despite knowing that she wouldn’t manipulate him on purpose - not anymore - he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness at her words.

“Would that’ve been so bad?” He spat, his voice still raspy and weak, “Would it have been so bad for me to finally stop, Natalia? To _rest_?”

He wanted to rest so badly. He felt weary down to his bones, and if running himself into the ground until he laid down and died was the only way to rest, then Bucky would gladly work until he could no longer draw breath.

“You think you’re the only one tired, James?” Natalia snapped, and he felt her hand grasp his jaw, forcing him around to face her. “You think you have the monopoly on wanting to rest? For the fight to stop? You’re not the only one to have been taken to the edge of breaking and tipped over into hell, and you _certainly_ won’t be the last.”

Bucky looked into green eyes that sparked with fury, and another emotion he couldn’t decipher.

“Do you want to know how we deal with it, James?” Natalia asked him coolly, and Bucky blinked, a hesitant nod following.

“We fall, then we get up and we lean on each other, so nobody carries the burden alone. We work together, and we don’t let individuals take the weight of the world anymore, because we know the consequences – and we almost _destroyed_ each other in the process. When we lose someone we mourn, we remember, and we respect the choices they made that led to their fall. We bury them, and we lay flowers on their grave, and we move on. Not to forget – we remember - but we still move on, because if we don’t - we get stuck, and we put everyone who’s left in danger when we can’t think beyond our own grief.”

Gripping his face tighter, hard enough to bruise, she shook it back and forth and pointed at him for good measure.

“You are _not_ alone, James,” She told him, her voice gentle now. “Do you understand?”

It was four weeks since Steve died.

Four weeks of numbness. Four weeks of corpses and an empty heart.

It was four weeks later, and Bucky Barnes grieved.

* * *

It was…hard, those first six months after Steve’s death. The loss of his best friend dug deep, like a hole in his chest that begged to be filled. Thor had at first given Bucky a large pouch of herbs to put in drinking water. Once mixed they acted like an alcoholic drink that actually worked past his serum. Bucky had been grateful for any kind of relief from the memories of Steve’s death, and the gnawing emptiness in his chest.

He spent nearly two whole months completely drunk from morning until night; sometimes blacking out and waking up on the floor still tipsy, only to make another bottle with the herbs and resume drinking only for the same thing to happen again in a vicious cycle. More than once somebody tried to talk him out of his drunken state; more often than not it was Stark, who was once again reaching out the hand of truce and trying his best to help someone that, in Bucky’s opinion, didn’t deserve it.

“Look, Barnes,” Bucky blinked slowly at the older man, swaying in place while he brought the bottle to his lips again. “I’ve been where you are, okay, and drinking doesn’t help in the long run. Granted, you were the reason I started in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there. What I’m trying to say is -”

Bucky tuned Stark out most of the time, just like did with everyone else that tried to talk to him.

Stark didn’t give up though, much to his surprise; Bucky couldn’t understand why the man that had once tried to kill him was now trying to save him. Stark never gave up, and even in his drunken state, Bucky found himself becoming closer to the man in spite of himself. Soon, Stark was usually the one picking him up off the floor when he blacked out at night, cleaning him up and putting him gently back in his bed.

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky slurred, on one of the nights where he was half aware of his surroundings.

Stark was helping him out of his vomit covered shirt, cleaning him up with a cool, damp cloth. If Bucky hadn’t been so drunk, he might have found himself embarrassed at the fact that Stark was wiping him down like a child.

“I thought you hated my guts.”

Stark grimaced, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as he maneuvered the ex-assassin out of his pants and manoeuvred his floppy limbs under the covers.

“I did,” The genius confirmed. “but then I actually took a look at those files, read the accords when I wasn’t feeling a shit ton of guilt…and realized I was being unreasonable, gullible, and stupid.” Biting his lip, he added. “And Pepper talked some sense into me too. She read over the accords and went all ‘flame-y.’ Should have had her read them over first thing, really. If I was wrong about that…” Stark huffed, pulling up a chair to Bucky’s bedside, who was staring intently at him - still drunk, but listening closely.

“If I was wrong about that, she said to me, then maybe I was wrong about you. So, I did what anyone would do and ignored her advice for a week until curiosity won out and…well we had to throw out a lot of trash cans and pay the housekeepers extra, cause, well, lots of vomit. Lots of guilty tears.”

“You shouldn’t have had to read that.” Bucky muttered, his glazed eyes filling with shame.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, I did. I needed to realize that I almost killed an innocent man and the guy just trying to point out that I was wrong, but I was too hot-headed and stubborn to listen before. I’m glad I finally did.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re helping my drunk ass.” Bucky slurred, eyes drooping.

“Because I couldn’t help Steve,” Stark said bluntly, and Bucky flinched, “But I can help you, and go some way to make up for what I did. I’m hoping in the process that maybe I’ll be able to see the guy that Steve always talked about when he thought you were dead, before everything went to hell. But right now, all I’m seeing is a pathetic drunk guy running from his problems.”

Looking into Bucky’s eyes, Stark added “All I’m seeing is myself, a few years ago.”

When Bucky woke up the next morning, he surprisingly remembered the conversation with Tony - because he couldn’t call someone that bared their soul to him by their last name – and it sat deeply within him. Despite that, he couldn’t stop himself from drowning.

Tony continued to clean him up, and sometimes tuck him into bed. Tony never got angry with him when he didn’t stop drinking, even if some part of Bucky wished he would. It brought them closer together.

Two old men that had lost and fought through far too much.

Natasha, though…Bucky knew that Natasha was angry with him. She’d opened up to him, and here he was, doing exactly what she had explicitly told him not to do.

He ran out of the herb after two months, and Thor refused to get more. Even when Bucky threatened him, he just laughed sadly and pulled him into a tight hug.

“My friend, you do not need to forget - you need to remember.” First Natasha, now Thor? “Do not let Steven’s memories be lost in pain, Bucky.” Thor said solemnly. “Let yourself remember the good moments you shared with him. Do not let yourself get lost in your grief. I have lost much, and I would despair to lose yet another member of my family.”

Thor had left then, leaving Bucky with a lot to think about.

* * *

Natasha found him holding a large cup of coffee, looking out at the sunrise on the balcony in his quarters. Nursing a painful two-month hangover, Bucky had left the hallway where Thor had spoken to him and gone straight for one of the biggest coffee mugs he could find.

He couldn’t remember the last time he watched the sunrise, though he was more than certain he would have done it with Steve. Steve had loved watching the sun rise and set, loved drawing and painting the shifting colors that crossed the sky. Bucky kept all of Steve’s art, and he was sure that if he were to look through it, there would be more than a few recent paintings of the Wakandan sun.

Bucky decided that he would watch the sunrise, to start off the new beginning in his life. A new life without Steve. Without his best friend, his brother - his soul.

The Wakandan sky was beautiful in the morning, and the sounds of birds and animals tickled at his ears and made him smile slightly. There was still life in the world. Still beauty. The world had lost a great man and was lacking for it, but for once Bucky felt that the world could eventually recover - remember, mourn and then move forward.

“I see you’re sober, finally.” Natasha snarked as she sat down beside him.

“I see your hair is finally normal.” Bucky shot right back, noting that Natasha had washed out her awful blond hair dye.

“I got tired of it.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Bullshit,” Bucky chuckled. “you just finally realized that it looked terrible on you.”

“It did nothing for me.” She agreed.

There were a few moments of silence before Bucky broke it.

“He loved the sun.” He said finally. Natasha hummed, urging him to go on.

“He used to hate it when we were younger, but after the ice he said he loved it - said feeling it on his skin made him feel warm again. The ice never really left him - left either of us - but Steve… The sun reminded him that he wasn’t in the ice anymore. He loved watching it rise and set, even said ‘good morning’ or ‘goodnight’ to it. Drew or painted it at every opportunity he had.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, taking a deep drink of his coffee. Letting out a sigh, he smiled.

“Guess it’s my turn to watch the sun for him now.”

“Make sure you don’t fly too close, James.” Natasha murmured.

Three months after the death of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes began to heal.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

It was another three months before Bucky could finally answer the question “How are you today?” with “I’m okay, thank you.” and not lie through his teeth with every answer.

Bucky went to therapy, he hung out with the team, and he cooked dinner more often than not, since everyone else barring Sam and Clint couldn’t cook without almost burning down the building.

He finally got to talk to Tony when Bucky wasn’t drunk off his ass and Tony wasn’t cleaning vomit off him and changing his clothes like a child. Bucky was surprised that they actually got along quite well, both of them having a similar sense of humor and a love of Sci Fi and tech, even if a lot of it went right over Bucky’s head.

He ended up asking if he could have a private yard and bring his goats to the palace, and T'Challa beamed at him and granted the request with a fond laugh.

“Yes, the man I left in your place has complained often that the goats do not like him. I believe they miss you, my friend.”

And indeed, they had; the second Bucky entered the new paddock for the goats, he was practically swarmed by the little animals. His heart warmed when he saw four new baby goats, still shaky on their legs, but just as determined to get to him.

The rest of the team found him lounging on the ground while the little ones climbed all over his back.

Looking up at his visitors as they watched him with the goats, he grinned at them and they all smiled back and came closer.

“How you doin', Buck?” Sam asked him.

“I’m great Sam.” Bucky laughed, “I’m doing great.”

And for once in that moment, he meant exactly what he said.

So of course, something had to change.

* * *

The sound of T'Challa's urgent footsteps made Bucky look up with a frown, standing quickly from his kneeling position where he was bottle feeding one of the goat kids. T’Challa looked harried, his usually calm demeanor cracking in the face of whatever news he had to bring Bucky.

“Hey, what’s going on?” The King looked troubled, and Bucky felt himself tensing; he had just started to heal- the last thing he needed was something coming and ruining all the work he had done for that to happen.

“I am sorry to barge into your peaceful morning, my friend.” T'Challa smiled fondly at the little goat that was butting against Bucky’s shins, upset that it was interrupted halfway through its meal.

“Please don't tell me there’s another alien bent on world domination again?” Bucky pleaded; he really didn’t think he could handle that. He'd just started to get to a place where he could relax without fearing that his peaceful retirement would be taken away, that he would have to fight again and possibly lose more friends in the process.

T’Challa was silent for a few moments.

“…We do not know,” Was what he finally said. “but if you would follow me, I want to show you what we do know.”

“Just let me finish feeding the kid, alright?”

T'Challa waited patiently, though he was obviously still tense as Bucky finished up, then he motioned for Bucky to follow him out of his quarters toward the labs.

“These past few days, our scientists have been getting readings of an energy signature in Wakanda similar to the one from the portal in New York in 2012 - the portal that Thanos used to bring his army to Earth - and also from what we had scanned of the Stones themselves.”

“Are you telling me that we could have another portal just pop out anywhere in Wakanda at any time, letting God knows what fall through?” Bucky croaked, feeling panic tighten around his throat.

They stopped in front of the labs, and Bucky felt a chill run down his spine when he realized that the room they stopped at was the one Steve had lived in before - before his death.

“No Bucky,” T’Challa sounded worried, his voice tight. “I am telling you we will have a portal open, and it will be in this room.”

“Well, fuck.” Bucky breathed.

“As my sister says; accurate.”

* * *

“Okoye, I know you're more than capable.”

“Then let us guard this room alongside you, White Wolf.” Okoye snapped, her patience clearly wearing thin. Bucky didn’t back down, looking the warrior in the eyes and scowling.

“If I can't hold back whatever falls through this portal, then you and the Dora are the best suited to protect the Royal family. Including,” Bucky turned to raise an eyebrow at Shuri, who was making a very unsubtle attempt to sneak into the room through a side door. “Princess Shuri, who you will take with you on the way out.”

Caught, Shuri straightened up and shot a furious glare at Bucky, hissing:

“I will put Lego on all your floors, and I will make your arm sing ABBA!”

“Hydra did worse.” Bucky shrugged, not moving an inch, much to Shuri's consternation.

Okoye watched the exchange with a straight face, and turned back to Bucky.

“You know you might die, do you not?” The Wakandan General did not mince words, and Bucky refused to flinch.

“I do.” He said simply, shrugging.

“You better not die, White Wolf.” She threatened, narrowing her eyes at him. “I will bring you back myself just to feed you to Bast, do you understand?”

Bucky knew that Okoye would no doubt do everything in her power to follow through on her threat if he dared lose his life. He didn’t plan on dying, but he appreciated the fact that Okoye cared about him; the threat held fondness and worry for his safety, and Bucky found himself wanting to hug the strong and composed woman.

“I'll do my best to not die, Okoye, I promise.” He told her, “But if I do -”

“You will not -”

“- If I do,” Bucky interrupted firmly, “then please, I want…” Bucky swallowed, “I want to be next to Steve. Please.”

Searching his eyes carefully, Okoye finally nodded and turned to Shuri, who ignored her for a moment. Instead she stomped right up to Bucky, jabbing an angry finger in his face.

“You will not die,” Shuri growled at him, sounding much more like a panther in the moment than her brother. “or I will bring your broken-white-boy ass back from the dead and – and -” Her composure crumpled, and Bucky pulled her into a hug. Shuri buried her face in his chest, sniffing and hugging him tight.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to stay alive, little cub, I promise.” He whispered in her hair. Pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, Bucky wrapped his arms around her to return the fierce hug..

“I can’t lose my second big brother, Buck.” Shuri mumbled into his chest.

“You know I can’t promise anything.” Bucky told her softly, pulling back. “All I can do is my best.” Looking at Okoye, he nodded toward her. “Now you go with Okoye, and you stay in the saferoom with your family. You'll be able to see and hear everything that happens from there, alright?”

Shuri nodded, giving him one last tight hug that would have bruised his ribs if he wasn’t enhanced, and left with Okoye, who shot him one last glance before she left the room, locking the thick vibranium door behind her.

Knowing that Clint, Natasha, Sam and Tony were probably watching him, he saluted the camera. They had all wanted to stay, but Bucky said the same thing to them as he said to Okoye. Natasha had left with even more threats to him than Okoye had managed.

“Well,” Bucky muttered, taking a seat. “now I just wait here. Great.”

* * *

It took a few hours before the monitors scanning the energy picked up on any change, and Bucky’s eyes snapped to the fluctuations rippling across the screens, even though he knew that whatever it was couldn’t be anything good. It wasn’t a huge spike in the beginning, just the slightest difference that Bucky in his heightened state of awareness caught easily. It took almost an hour before Bucky felt what could only be described as a thrumming in his bones; small waves of energy that slowly gained in strength emanating from a corner of the room where the large bed lay.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

In the end, it was with a dramatic flash of light and a loud tearing noise that something-someone landed on the bed, rolling off and throwing an object in Bucky’s direction in one smooth movement.

Ducking just in time, Bucky felt a chill run down his spine at the sound of a knife embedding itself into the vibranium-reinforced wall above his head. He rolled to the side to avoid a punch thrown at him by a metal arm that was far too familiar, and blocked a follow-up as dread settled into his stomach. The attacker swung for him again, and Bucky felt another wave of fear as he realized that this intruder had two metal arms.

Were they a robot? An android from the future?

Bucky didn’t have time to think of anything else as a lightning fast roundhouse kick sent him flying into a wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs and bringing tears to his eyes as his ribs cracked under the force of the impact.

His attacker grabbed him by the throat, squeezing out what little air he had left, and Bucky’s eyes widened and a gasp left his lips at the horrifyingly familiar black mask that covered the lower face of his attacker; rage-filled blue eyes that haunted his dreams every night glaring back at him.

Scene Art by [LiquidLightz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196757) (click on link for AO3 art post)

* * *

“Steve?” Bucky choked, his heart cracking in two. The last thing he expected to come out of the portal was Steve Rogers, even if he had long hair pulled back into a braid that reached his shoulder blades and wore something very similar to Bucky’s old Winter Soldier gear instead of his own Captain America uniform. The outfit was overall more like a nightmarish bastardization of the two together, but it still looked far too much like Hydra for comfort.

The man’s hold on his throat tightened to almost lethal levels, and Bucky knew that if he didn’t break the grip that this Steve had on his neck, he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Who the hell is Steve?”

The world dropped out from under Bucky’s feet.

Bucky could feel the bones in his neck creaking, and he closed his eyes and waited for death, hoping that the Royal Family would be safe and that the room was secure enough to contain this deadly version of his best friend.

The sudden release of the hand from his throat had him gasping for air, already feeling the bruising of the tissues in his neck, coughing and wheezing as he tried to take in precious oxygen.

Looking through blurry eyes, he saw his attacker out cold on the floor, Okoye standing above the body with her spear raised, the tip crackling with electricity.

“I told you to stay away.” Bucky rasped, his throat burning as he spoke.

“If I did, you would be dead.” She snapped at him. “You are welcome.”

“Thank you.” Bucky said genuinely, before turning his attention to the portal jumper. “Let me just -” He leant down, pulling off the mask, hoping against hope that he was wrong; but the face behind the black muzzle made his chest feel hollow with despair.

“Oh, God.” Bucky croaked, “Oh God, Stevie - No!”

* * *

Bucky stood with the rest of the Avengers, everyone grimly silent as they watched the Wakandan scientists work on the strange man who looked so much like their dead leader and dearest friend.

All of them were in a state of shock, having watched the fight through the cameras linked to the saferoom.

“Was I the only one feeling déjà vu watching Bucky and this guy fight?”

Sam’s words broke the silence, and Natasha nodded.

“Yes, it was like watching Steve and the Soldier fight again in DC. Only…” She trailed off.

“Only this time, it was Murder-Cyborg Steve versus Less-Murder-Cyborg Barnes.” Tony’s attempt at levity fell flat.

“He has two metal arms.” Bucky rasped, eyes focusing on the gleaming appendages. “And he looks exactly like Steve.”

“Well, apart from the two metal arms. Obviously.” Tony snarked, only to hiss along with the rest of them when the scientists cut off the tac pants on the Steve-look-alike, revealing two cybernetic legs.

“Make that four metal limbs.” Tony corrected weakly.

“Shit, what the hell happened to this guy?” Clint asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good.”

Tony looked at Bucky and the ex-assassin could feel the man’s gaze burning into the side of his head.

“Sorry, but am I hearing you defending the guy? The guy who just about ripped your head off while exiting a portal of unknown origin?”

“He didn’t ‘almost rip my head off.’” Bucky argued, and Tony snorted.

“Try to be more convincing when your throat doesn’t resemble the inside of a meat grinder, Barnes,” Tony snapped, turning to face him. “The damage he did to you says otherwise.”

“Yeah well, I might've done the same thing if I just exited a random portal to a strange place.” Bucky countered.

“You know what I think?” Tony growled, getting into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, boy.” Sam muttered, stepping forward to trying and pull Tony back, but Tony just shrugged him off.

“What?” Bucky glowered at Stark, his expression dangerous, but Tony pressed on.

“I think you really want to believe that this is Steve, so you’re gonna vouch for the guy that just about killed you no matter what he does, and when he kills you - when we're the ones having to put another friend in the ground, and picking up the pieces? - We’re not gonna be able to glue everything back together again.” Tony’s voice had gone shaky, his eyes shining. “I can’t lose another friend, Bucky. I can’t do it.”

Bucky softened, his anger deflating in the face of the genuine concern and fear that Tony had for him. Pulling him into a tight hug, careful not to further aggravate his healing ribs, Bucky addressed Tony and the team.

“I promise I'll be careful, okay? I can’t promise I won’t try to help this guy if I think he can be helped, but I'll be cautious and make sure I avoid getting myself killed.”

Tony sniffed then pulled back, nodding. Regaining his composure, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when T'Challa entered the room.

“I believe we have discovered why this man looks so much like our Captain Rogers,”

“Please.” Bucky rasped.

“This man is from an alternate universe,” T'Challa intoned, “and - I believe - one in which he became the Winter Soldier in your place.”

“Shit.” Was all Bucky could really say right now.

He had suspected as much; between the metal limbs, the outfit, the hair - not to mention the haunted fury in the man’s eyes as he attacked Bucky without mercy - he wasn’t that surprised. Suspecting and knowing however, were two very different things.

Bucky couldn’t help but look through the observation window again at the man who had almost killed him, whose eyes were so full of rage yet screamed for help. He wondered just how much damage this Steve had taken on the fall from the train for all of his limbs to be replaced like that. Was it done by Hydra out of necessity, or was it simply in order to make him more deadly, and they sawed off perfectly healthy limbs and those that could have healed given enough time?

Had they left this Steve awake for the procedure, like Bucky was? Did he scream, while the HYDRA scientists laughed as they removed his limbs one by one and replaced them with metal; grafting it to his shoulders, his ribcage, his spine, his pelvis? Was the Zola of his reality a witness to the procedure? Did the Toad call this man the new ‘Fist of HYDRA?’

Was he scared?

Was his Bucky with him?

… Was his Bucky even alive?

There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue - too many to count - but Bucky held back and only asked the most important;

“How can we help him?”

Nobody in the team protested, already fully aware of his intentions. That didn’t mean that they were happy about it; just that they knew that there was no use arguing with Bucky about any version of Steve Rogers, no matter how dangerous he happened to be.

“We will put him in one of the cells that were made for you when you first arrived.” T'Challa didn’t look surprised at Bucky’s words. “My scientists are just giving him something to make sure he stays unconscious during the trip. From there we can work on a plan of action.”

* * *

The Asset dragged the man out of the river, depositing him on the bank. Pushing the blond strands that escaped his braid out of his face, the Asset leaned down to check if **Target: James Buchanan Barnes, Alias: Captain America ** was dead. Not hearing a breath or a heartbeat, the Asset checked the man’s pulse; a strange feeling of panic filling his chest when he couldn't find one. Attempts at resuscitation failed, and the Asset knew his mission was well and truly complete.

**Target eliminated. Mission successful.**

So why did the Asset feel as if he had done something horrible? Something unforgivable? Why did he feel like his world was ending?

The Asset shoved the feelings away and with a single look back, he staggered away from the corpse of Captain America.

_Bucky…Oh, God…_

Who the hell was Bucky?

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

The Asset took almost a week to heal.

He was sure if he had had human limbs, he would have a broken arm and possibly a broken leg, too. Most of the damage was contained to his torso and face, and that healed quickly. It was difficult to perform maintenance on himself, because his cybernetic limbs were almost always cared for by HYDRA technicians. The Asset only did rudimentary fixes during missions.

It didn’t help that he kept getting visions of himself and the target, laughing and being friendly. The Asset was sceptical of the visions, because in them the Asset was smaller, weaker, fragile and frail. Everything the Asset was not.

It was on the ninth day after waking up from unnerving visions that the Asset went for a walk, determined to shake off the unease from the latest vision of a train and the target screaming “Steve”.

The Asset detected twenty minutes into his walk that he was being followed. Turning down an alleyway to confront and eliminate the stalker, the Asset was hit with a sudden thrumming energy and fell through a shining wall of white, ducking and rolling on instinct and throwing a knife at the threatening shape of a man nearby.

A man he killed less than two weeks ago.

His mission:

**Target: James Buchanan Barnes Alias: Captain America.**

This man had longer hair and a metal limb, but the Asset didn’t care about the discrepancy. The Asset was angry that his target had somehow escaped death, yet at the same time something in him rejoiced that James Buchanan Barnes Alias Captain America was alive and breathing; no longer a corpse on the shore of the Potomac.

The Asset felt frustration as the target refused to fight back, resorting to defensive moves much like in his previous fight with James Buchanan Barnes Alias Captain America.

The Asset had the man by the throat, increasing pressure until he could feel the cracking of the man’s vertebrae.

“Steve?” The man gasped, and the Asset’s brows furrowed.

“Who the hell is Steve?” The Asset growled, tightening his grip further. He was seconds away from snapping the neck of the target - completing his mission for a second time - when he felt the familiar feeling of electricity surging through his body. This time, it was enough to knock him out.

Dropping the target, the Asset slipped into darkness.

* * *

  
The Asset woke up in what had to be the most comfortable cell he had ever seen. It was more like a room with a glass wall than a cell, and the Asset scowled at the unfamiliar feeling of soft sheets and a thick mattress beneath his body. Everything looked reinforced; welded down and made out of a strong metal. There was nothing he could use as a weapon; nothing he could use to escape. Even his clothing was soft and harmless; a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants without a drawstring.

His metal feet were bare. For some reason it seemed odd; he couldn’t remember seeing his feet before. They were always concealed by combat boots.

The Asset couldn’t explain the feeling of wrongness he felt at seeing his metal feet; the lack of toes unnerved him.

The Asset looked around his cell with narrowed eyes, suspicious of the luxurious surroundings of his captivity. He had never been given comfort before, because an Asset does not deserve comfort or soft things. The Asset can function just fine in a regular cell.

Despite his confusion, the Asset found himself feeling pleased at the comforts in his cell. He liked the way the clothes and sheets felt against his skin, and the way the mattress yielded beneath his body.

The sound of a throat clearing made the Asset snap his gaze towards the glass wall. Cursing himself for not noticing someone sneaking up on him, the Asset scowled as he found the long-haired metal-armed version of **Target: James Buchanan Barnes Alias: Captain America** standing there, staring at him with a frown.

* * *

  
Bucky couldn’t help but notice this new Steve’s metal feet. They seemed so different from normal feet; almost like metal socks covering where toes were supposed to be, except he knew that the ‘socks’ didn’t come off.

Bucky wondered how he balanced without toes.

Bucky felt the gaze of the Steve-assassin burning into his skull, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked up carefully, making sure his expression was as neutral and non-threatening as possible. He didn’t want the other man to feel threatened by someone he had already attacked.

“Hello.” Bucky addressed the man in the cell, “Are you in any pain?”

The prisoner tilted his head, looking so much like a confused puppy that Bucky almost smiled.

Well, a murderous confused puppy.

“The Asset is functioning at mission-ready levels.”

Bucky barely held back his violent flinch at the reply, but he couldn’t help the way his face paled instantly, and his stomach filled with ice. The words sent Bucky right back to his years as ‘The Asset’, a mindless tool for HYDRA to use and abuse. HYDRA’s fist and weapon; a blank, emotionless, empty slate that didn’t have an identity or an understanding of why he was treated the way he was, only that he must have done something at some point to deserve it. His missing memories held the key, if only he was allowed access to them.

The familiar words and intonation coming from a Steve of any reality made him feel like he was stabbed through the heart with a jagged, rusty knife.

Bucky hated that this Steve – anyone - had gone through what he did, and the still raw edges of the loss of his Steve were reignited by the presence of this man: The Soldier.

“Asset, have you sustained damage?” Bucky growled, resisting the urge to vomit as he spoke to the Soldier like one of his own handlers.

The Soldier stiffened, and much to Bucky’s horror, knelt and bowed his head almost to the ground with his hands behind his back. Every inch of the posture screamed submission.

“The Asset has non-serious injuries from Mission: Eliminate target James Buchanan Barnes, Alias: Captain America. Mission Successful. H-Hail HYDRA.”

Bucky couldn’t help it. He bolted out of the cell block without looking back, running straight to the nearest bathroom and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, where he emptied his stomach of all of its contents, and possibly also a kidney.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Bucky moaned, spit clinging to his chin and snot running down his face.

He choked on a sob as the Soldier’s words ran through his head again and again; what it meant; In this Steve’s reality, Bucky was - had been - Captain America. He probably fought this Steve on the Helicarrier and refused to hit back, refused to fight his Steve. Hoping to believe he could break that version of Steve Rogers out of his HYDRA brainwashing; but instead he had died for it.

Bucky couldn’t fathom what he would have felt if he hadn’t broken his programming and hadn’t saved Steve; if he had killed Steve. He couldn’t imagine coming out of it months or years later only to find out he killed the one person who had believed in him - the one person left who believed he was more than his programming; that he could be saved. The only person left from his past that knew him before everything. They knew each other before the War; when they were just bright-eyed young kids ignorant of the evils of the world, only concerned with the immediate struggle for food and rent.

He knew that most people would be horrified at the fact that their other self was dead, but Bucky didn’t care about that. Not really.

The part that had Bucky swallowing back more bile was that this Steve would have to live the rest of his life knowing that he had killed his best friend; his brother. Bucky cried for the broken man in the cell. He would probably never forgive himself, would never get over the fact that he had killed his Bucky.

Bucky couldn’t help the small traitorous thought that ran through his brain that it might be easier on the Soldier if Bucky knocked him out and painlessly put him down; spared him the suffering that he would have to go through once his memories returned.

Bucky knew what he would have done if he had woken up to discover he had killed Steve; he would have found the nearest gun or knife and ended his life right then and there.

He knew that he would have to fight to keep this Steve alive, and it would be a hell of a job for him to take on.

Standing back up from his kneeling position in front of the toilet and flushing it, he walked over to the sink.

He started to feel a bit better after he splashed some water on his face and dried it carefully with a towel. Bucky checked himself in the mirror. He still looked like hell.

“God, what a mess.” He muttered to himself.

“Are you sure you wanna clean this one up, James?”

“Shit!” Bucky yelped, jumping. Whipping around he saw Natasha leaning against the wall by the door. “Natasha, what the hell?”

“Barnes.” Natasha stalked up to him, eyes stern. “You don’t have to do this; this guy isn’t your responsibility. He isn’t Steve.”

Taking a breath, his heart calming down, Bucky gave her a sad smile. “I know, Natalia,” He said gently, “but he's a Steve; and there is not a Steve in this world or the next that isn’t my responsibility. He’s my friend, no matter where he’s from.”

“He doesn’t know you.”

“He will.”

“No.” Natasha snapped, poking his chest, glaring at him, “He doesn’t know you, he knows the Bucky in his reality that he killed - not you.”

“I know, Nat…”

“Do you?” She raised a brow, “Right now, I’m not so sure you do.”

“Do you think it isn’t already tearing me up inside to see the guy like this, Natasha?” Bucky snarled, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes that he brushed away angrily. “That it isn’t like my heart's being ripped out looking at the face of my dead best friend as the Winter Soldier?”

“James...”

“I’ve had nightmares about this.” Bucky laughed without a hint of humor. “Where Steve fell from the train with me and we both became Soldiers, both got tortured and brainwashed by HYDRA for seventy years until you guys stopped us.” By the look on Natasha’s face, she knew what he meant by ‘stopped’. “And now I look at this guy and I know that he had it so much worse, because at least in those dreams we died together.”

* * *

  
“So, we’re supposed to accept the fact that this guy killed you?”

“He didn’t kill me - he killed a version of me.”

“Oh, ‘cause that makes it so much better.” Sam rolled his eyes, and Bucky clenched his fists.

“He’s my friend, Wilson.” Bucky took a step forward, glaring at the former airman.

“So am I,” Sam snapped, “and I don’t want to wake up one day to find out this guy stuck a knife in you!”

“You followed Steve when he came after me.” Bucky pointed out, not backing down.

“That was different.” Sam said stiffly, “You knew him.”

“Actually,” Bucky sighed, “I didn’t.”

“…What?” Sam said flatly.

“I didn’t know him.” Bucky looked towards the window in the conference room.

“Hold on.” Tony cut in. “You dragged Steve’s ass from the river; there’s no way you didn’t know him.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, reliving the memories of the Helicarrier fight.

“The Soldier knew this; the man on the Helicarrier claimed to know him. The Soldier had failed in his mission, and the man that caused him to fail was a better option than returning to HYDRA for punishment.”

Clint’s face screwed up.

“Dude, that’s fucked up reasoning - and I put coffee in my cereal.”

“That’s disgusting.” Natasha wrinkled her nose, and Clint shrugged.

“Yeah, but its faster.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky changed back to the topic at hand.

“The Soldier didn’t start recovering memories until Bucharest.”

“I call bullshit.” Sam scowled, “You knew about the newspapers and his ma's name; you can’t fake that.”

“No,” Bucky smirked. “but it sure made you guys believe I knew a hell of a lot more than I did.”

“So, what?” Natasha leaned forward with her elbows on the table, “You’re saying the Soldier faked being Bucky Barnes for the whole Accords confrontation?”

“I’m saying the Soldier knows how to blend in, and the reason he went back into cryo was because Shuri was the only one who realized he was acting and told him if he didn’t then he would never see the light of day again.” Shrugging, Bucky added, “And the Soldier can tell a threat from a promise.”

Tony whistled.

“Wow, that’s…terrifying. So, you could have killed us at any time?”

“You weren’t my mission.” Bucky said simply.

The team took a moment to digest that, and Bucky stretched, wincing as his back cracked. He met their eyes steadily, refusing to turn away from their obvious discomfort with the truth.

“Okay,” Sam straightened up, looking Bucky in the eyes. “so how do we start helping this guy?”

“Just great, another broken white boy to fix.” Half the team jumped, not realizing Shuri had come into the room while they were talking.

“I’m going to put a bell on you and your brother.” Bucky snapped playfully at her, and she grinned.

“I would love to see you try to get my brother to wear a bell collar; I could take so many pictures!” She laughed.

“You love fixing us broken white boys, admit it.” Bucky teased her, and she sniffed haughtily.

“I refuse to admit anything, White Wolf.”

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

The first thing Shuri insisted they do was a series of in-depth brain scans, since they had no idea how much damage this version of the Winter Soldier had taken from his version of HYDRA, and their memory-wipe technology. 

Getting the Soldier to comply with the brain scans, however, was just as difficult as Bucky thought it would be. 

Bucky stood in front of the Soldier’s cell, waiting for the Soldier to acknowledge him. It took several minutes of at first being ignored, while the Soldier did what Bucky recognized as some of the HYDRA-given exercises that Bucky had been expected to do daily when he was not in the middle of a mission or in cryo. 

The Soldier had been slowly starting to rebel against his capture, clearly knowing now that they were not his true Handlers and that they didn’t have the words to control him. 

Bucky didn’t bother to test out whether the words HYDRA had used on him would work on this Steve. Bucky planned on saving that for emergencies only. He didn’t want to lose any chances he had of gaining the Soldier’s trust even if at the moment they didn’t have any at all. 

Bucky didn’t blame the Soldier for being wary; from the Soldier’s point of view it must look like they were just another HYDRA - keeping him imprisoned and alone, waiting for the right time to wipe him again and send him on a mission. 

“Good morning Soldier.” Bucky greeted the other man in Russian; Other Steve had refused to speak anything but Russian since the first time he woke up in the cell, and Bucky indulged the rebellion in order to hopefully gain a small amount of trust. 

The Soldier finally raised his head and met Bucky's eyes with a scowl. Bucky resisted the urge to laugh. With the rumpled hair escaping its braid, the soft clothes and the fact that the Soldier seemed to be still half-asleep despite his exercises, well - he almost looked adorable standing there and ‘pouting’. 

“How are you feeling today?” Bucky casually ignored the Soldier’s continued silence. “Is there anything you want that we can add to your room?” 

“This is not a room.” The Soldier finally spoke, crossing his metal arms. The stance was so ‘I’m-Steve-Rogers-Don’t-Bullshit-Me’ that Bucky felt his heart ache. 

“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty nice cell. Probably way better than you got with HYDRA.” 

The Soldier snorted. “It is still a prison.” 

Bucky nodded, not arguing when he knew that saying otherwise would be a blatant lie. 

“We want to scan your brain.” Bucky said bluntly, not mincing words. 

He knew that most people would try to ease the Soldier into the idea, but Bucky knew better than anyone that that would be a terrible idea. Bucky, when he was still healing from his own HYDRA brainwashing, hated it when the Wakandan scientists would always try to slowly work their way up to suggesting whatever procedure or test they wanted to do to him. It had felt too much like manipulation and deceit to avoid the subject in that way. 

Unfortunately for Bucky, this Soldier didn’t look happy at the prospect of brain scanning. 

“Nyet.” The Soldier’s snarl was joined by him punching the vibranium-reinforced glass wall of his cell. 

“We need to scan your brain in order to learn how to help you.” Bucky reasoned, but the Soldier’s scowl only deepened. 

“Nyet - no tests. I refuse.” 

Feeling a headache beginning behind his eyes, Bucky resisted the urge to sigh. 

“Do you not want to heal, Soldier?” 

“I am in optimal functioning order. The Asset does not require further healing.” 

Shit. Bucky groaned internally. He had hoped this would be easy, but apparently the Soldier didn’t plan on cooperating with the much-needed tests anytime soon. 

“Soldier, I'd really like to avoid having you knocked out with gas for this, but if you don’t cooperate, I will give the order.” 

The Soldier screamed wordlessly, punching the glass with both fists and then kicking it for good measure. 

“Nyet!” The Soldier’s shout echoed through the cell. Bucky couldn't help but feel guilty as he saw the fear lurking behind the Soldier’s anger. Bucky knew that the idea of being knocked out and vulnerable was something that would terrify the Soldier, and he felt like a heel for using it but they were rapidly running out of options. 

Shuri needed those tests, and Bucky was willing to do whatever it took to get this version of Steve Rogers back in some way, even if he knew that he would never be the same. 

Bucky was very aware that he never knew this Steve before the serum, and Bucky felt like that was both an advantage and disadvantage. 

On one hand, Bucky never knew this Steve before HYDRA had turned him into the Winter Soldier, so he wouldn’t have preconceived notions or hopes of him returning to ‘normal’. 

On the other, Bucky didn’t know what ‘normal’ even was for this man, and wouldn’t be able to say for sure if Steve was returning to some version of himself, or if the Soldier was merely acting as Bucky had done. 

What if - and Bucky had never voiced this fear to the others - this Steve Rogers had never been the ‘good man’ that Erskine had seen in his own Steve? What if the Soldier was in there all along? What if this Steve had never been Steve at all? 

The Soldier continued to rage in his cell, punching and kicking the glass wall, his eyes wide and wild like a spooked horse. 

Bucky felt the sickening sensation of guilt slide down his throat into his gut as he activated the comm in his ear. 

“…Gas him, Shuri.” 

“Are you sure? Maybe he will calm down.” 

“He’s not going to calm down, Shuri. He’s scared out of his mind and he’ll kill himself trying to get outta that cell if we don’t do something.” 

“...If you are certain?” 

“Do it.” His voice was filled with pain and effort that anyone with ears could hear. 

Shuri’s reply came in the form of a loud hissing sound - super-soldier variety knock out gas. 

The Soldier's behaviour immediately became even more frantic, banging and kicking at the glass in a frenzied attempt to get out. 

It took almost a full three minutes before the Soldier was unconscious, and another two before Bucky was satisfied that he wasn’t faking it. 

“Stop the gas, Shuri.” Bucky waited until the room was filtered clean until he pressed a series of hidden buttons on the wall, the glass wall between him and the Soldier disappearing into the ground. 

Bucky stepped into the cell, kneeling down and checking the man’s pulse, which was slow but healthy. Bucky sighed in relief; he wasn’t sure exactly what type of serum this Steve had running through his veins, and he was wary of making the gas as strong as it would need to be to take down their Steve. However, Shuri had insisted on using a formula stronger than he was initially comfortable with; citing that in order for the Soldier to have survived and effectively use all four of his metal limbs, the serum used on him was at least as potent and possibly even stronger than the one given to their own Steve. Bucky had allowed Wakandan scientists to work on strengthening his own serum in the past for him to continue to have good use of his metal arm, so he knew that it could be a major factor. 

Steeling himself, Bucky grabbed one of the Soldier’s metal arms and wrapped it around his neck, staggering a bit as he stood; the guy weighed a ton with all that metal, and Bucky could feel his muscles starting to protest at the strain. This Soldier must weigh at least 400 pounds - maybe even more. 

Bucky regretted those work out days he had skipped and replaced with lazy couch days. He really hoped he didn’t sprain anything dragging this Steve along to the lab. Bucky couldn’t even reach his comm to ask Shuri to send some help. Not, he realised, that he needed to. She already had it covered; three large men came jogging towards him with a stretcher, and Bucky gratefully let the men help him heave the dead-weight assassin onto the reinforced surface. 

Bucky held his tongue as he watched the men strap the Soldier down from head to ankles, vibranium-laced leather preventing even the smallest movement. 

“Are those restraints going to affect the scan?” Bucky asked Shuri as she began to turn on the instruments. 

“No. Vibranium only absorbs kinetic energy - it does not repel radiation. Plus,” she added, “the amount of vibranium in those straps is only enough to hold him still, not interfere with the images.” 

“Are you sure that gas is enough to keep him under until he’s back in the cell?” 

Shuri narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you questioning my science, White Wolf?” 

Bucky raised his hands placatingly. “I’m just worried that his HYDRA might have enhanced him more than we know about. I really don’t want him waking up before we have him locked back up safely, alright?” 

Shuri rolled her eyes, turning back to the screens. “Do not worry. The dose was designed for someone with three times our Steve Roger’s metabolism.” 

“…Excuse me?” Bucky spluttered. 

Waving her hand dismissively, Shuri shrugged. “I calculated it with the information gathered from his blood test results. I knew he would be fine.” 

“I feel so much better now, thanks.” Bucky drawled, and Shuri smirked. 

“Good.” 

* * *

“C’mon, man, you need to stop this.” 

Bucky ignored Sam, instead continuing to stare stone-faced at the brain scan images that Shuri had shared with him the day before. 

“There is a lot of damage to his brain, Wolf. The memory centers are like a Swiss cheese - if someone shot it with a machine gun. I have never seen such destruction, not even in your own medical records. The area of the brain that deals with emotions is…cut off from the rest. Reduced. I can only describe it as if someone has disconnected his emotions, like you would a power cable.” 

“…But he has the serum.” 

“Yes.” 

“So…he can heal, right?” 

“…I would not hope for much this time, Bucky.” 

Bucky knew that staring at the scans wouldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. Despite that, Bucky couldn’t help the part of him that hoped that if he looked at the scans long enough, a revelation would pop fully formed into his brain and give him everything he needed to know. 

A hard tug at his right shoulder made him grunt, and he snapped his eyes up to glare at Sam. 

“Leave me alone, Wilson,” 

“Yeah, not gonna happen Barnes.” 

Bucky huffed, turning back to the scans only to get a swift whack to the back of the head. Whipping around to stare at Sam incredulously, Bucky yelped. 

“Did you just Gibbs-Slap me?!” 

“Sure did,” Sam confirmed, “and I’ll do it again if you don’t get your ass up and come to eat with the rest of us.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to tell Sam once again ‘no,’ but the loud growling of his stomach betrayed him. 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yeah, okay. Fine.” 

“Natasha’s cookin’ lunch today, so be prepared for lots of sandwiches.” 

“She does realize that making sandwiches doesn't count as cooking, right?” 

“I’m not gonna tell her. Besides, she fried some chicken to go in them.” 

“Oh, wonderful. I survive HYDRA only to be poisoned by Nat’s cooking.” 

“You poor, poor man.” 

“Shuddup, Wilson.” 

* * *

Bucky hadn’t realized how much his body was screaming at him to eat until he polished off seven of Natasha’s fried chicken sandwiches. Which, much to his surprise, were delicious. 

Natasha shrugged when he told her. “I bought them at the deli T’Challa recommended. Even I think poisoning everyone with my culinary talents isn’t the best idea right now.” 

“Did Shuri mention what the plan was for fixing Winter’s brain?” 

Everyone turned to glare at Tony as Bucky’s mood visibly dimmed, looking down at his lap. 

“What?” Tony shrugged, “The faster we get Winter back to whatever normal he was before HYDRA played ‘Operation’, the better.” 

“Winter?” Bucky twisted his face up. 

Tony shrugged. “I refuse to call the guy ‘Soldier’, so for now, Winter works.” 

“As much as I hate to agree with Tony,” Bruce ignored Tony’s indignant ‘Hey!’ “It's probably for the best that we do more tests to see what’s going on. I haven’t been here since the beginning.” Bruce shot Bucky an apologetic look and he shrugged; he got it. Bucky had done his own version of running away for a few months. Bruce deserved a vacation after everything that had happened. “I do understand that if we don’t get on top of this, we'll have an unstable assassin on our hands with potentially no way to stop him other than killing him.” Everyone flinched at that, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Hell no, that’s not gonna happen.” Bucky snapped, and Bruce nodded. 

“Then the sooner we figure this out the better.” 

“But y’all have to take self-care breaks, okay?” Sam, ever the voice of reason. 

They all grimaced at the suggestion, and Sam folded his arms as if he was scolding a small child. “I swear to god, if y’all don’t eat and sleep properly I will drag Pepper back from retirement and set her on you.” 

That quickly brought an end to their resistance. Nobody wanted to evoke the wrath of a Pepper Potts disturbed from her retirement. 

“Shuri said there’s a lot of damage, and to not hold out too much hope.” Bucky said quietly. 

“That’s bullshit.” Tony snapped. “I bet if the scientists looked for more than half a day at those scans -” Tony cut off at Bucky shaking his head. “-What?” 

Bucky answered Tony by shoving the file full of the Soldier’s brain scans in his direction. 

Tony winced as he flipped through the file, Bruce doing the same as he looked over Tony’s shoulder. 

“Okay,” Tony said, his voice strained, “so his brain looks like captain Ahab went at it with a couple hundred spears.” 

“But he does have the enhanced version of the super-soldier serum.” Bruce added. 

“Right.” Nodding, Tony pointed to the scans. “I bet you twenty bucks that if we scan him in a couple days, we’ll see things starting to heal.” 

“It might not be by much.” Bruce cautioned, “Even his serum is probably going to struggle to repair all this.” 

“James.” Natasha reached over and placed her hand on his metal one, voice gentle. “You have to be prepared that he might not get better, and even if he does…” For once, Natasha looked away, uncomfortable. “He’s not from our universe; who knows what type of person he was before HYDRA got their hands on him.” 

Bucky didn’t have an answer for that. 

* * *

The Asset was…bored. 

He couldn’t remember being bored before, and it was an irritating feeling. When he was with HYDRA, he was either in cryo, in the chair, training, or on a mission. He had never just sat around. 

The Asset found himself bothered by his braid coming undone, the strands curling on his face and into his eyes. The Asset had a sudden flash of a giggling red-haired little girl – forced to grow up far too soon - smiling at him as he twisted her fiery hair into an elaborate series of braids. 

The flash was gone as soon as it had come, and the Asset scowled as his head throbbed and yet another strand fell into his face. Grabbing his messy braid, the Asset unraveled the knots and started to twist his hair up, his fingers moving without being really conscious of what he was doing. 

By the time he was done, he looked in the reflective surface that doubled as a mirror above his sink and raised his eyebrows, tilting his head side-to-side. 

“That’s a fishtail braid. Impressive.” 

The Asset almost reached for a knife before he remembered that he was stripped of all his weapons. 

Whipping around so fast he heard a crack in his neck, the Asset locked eyes on a familiar red-headed figure; 

“Natalia…?” The Asset murmured, drinking in the older version of the little girl he trained so long ago. 

“How do you know me?” Natalia stiffened, almost unnoticeable; except the Asset knew all of her tells. 

“I trained you.” He told her, eyes narrowed, “Did they wipe that from your mind, Natashenka?” 

Natalia took a step forward, and the Asset looked into her eyes for any hint of recognition and found none. Not even a hint of confusion, which should be apparent if she was searching for a missing memory. 

He saw only conviction - that she had never she met the Asset before in her life. 

Closing his expression, the Asset stepped back. 

“You are not Natalia,” He spat, “Why do you look like her?” 

“No,” The imposter agreed, “I’m not your Natalia.” The Asset narrowed his eyes as he caught her word choice. 

“But,” Taking another step forward, she looked into his eyes. “I am a Natalia. Not yours. You’re a long way from home, Soldier.” 

The Asset stayed silent, choosing to glare at her instead. 

“That portal you passed through - it transported you to a different universe. We don’t think you can get back.” 

A different universe? The Asset shook his head; did they really expect him to believe that? Did they think he was that stupid? The Asset’s brains may be scrambled, and he may not understand much outside of missions and targets, but he knew enough to be sure that alternate universes did not exist. 

“Do not lie to me Natalia.” The Asset stalked towards the glass separating them. “Why do you not remember me?” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“Bullshit.” The Asset hissed, “Nyet. No more lies, little Spider,” 

“Look at the screen to your right.” 

The Asset scowled. “What?” 

“Look.” Natalia snapped, and the Asset reluctantly looked. 

The once blank wall was showing him a video, of…. his Target? The Asset frowned, noticing something was off…Why was the Target standing beside a man dressed as Captain America? Why was the Target not dressed in the uniform instead? Images flashed past of the same man in the uniform, then short video clips, each with the helmet on so the Asset could not see his face. 

“That is Steve Rogers.” Natalia said, the Asset noting a tremble to her voice that he filed away for later. “Before he became Captain America, he weighed 95 pounds, and had pretty much every disease known to man. In 1942 he signed up for an experimental procedure that turned him into Captain America. His first mission was unauthorised - against orders - and he rescued over a thousand men; including Bucky Barnes, his childhood best friend.” 

The Asset listened closely to Natalia as the pictures and clips continued. His head was starting to hurt. 

“In 1945 Bucky Barnes fell off a train in the Alps on a mission to capture a HYDRA Scientist named Arnim Zola.” The Asset flinched, a vision of a stout bespectacled man loomed over him with a needle in one hand and a bone saw in another. 

“You will be the new Knight of HYDRA…” 

“Two weeks later, Captain America sacrificed himself by putting a plane containing nuclear bombs into the arctic ocean. Red Skull, the leader of HYDRA at the time, died with him. Seventy years later, the plane was discovered frozen in the arctic, and the Captain revealed to still be alive.” 

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers -” Natalia continued mercilessly. The Asset tried to focus, but his head hurt! “- joined a group called the Avengers, that with his help saved the world from global threats on many occasions.” 

Multiple clips of the ‘Avengers’ in action dominated the screen. They seemed to work well together, and the Asset noted that his STRIKE team had nowhere near the effectiveness and teamwork that these ‘Avengers’ displayed. 

“In 2014, it was discovered that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD from the beginning, and that a man called the Winter Soldier had helped them shape the century for their own ends.” 

The Asset twitched. Why was Natalia telling him his history? There were a few discrepancies, yes... but why? 

“Captain America discovered during combat that The Winter Soldier was in fact, his childhood best friend; James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.” 

The Asset… 

What? 

That wasn’t correct. That wasn’t right! 

He was the Winter Soldier - James Barnes was Captain America! 

Yet, there was footage of James Barnes being wiped with that stupid chair, his left arm made of metal and Pierce and Rumlow standing smugly over his body as he screamed in chains - 

“This discovery set a lot of major events in motion, but I won’t go into details about those now.” Natalia was either unaware or uncaring of the Asset’s current crisis; the Asset guessed from his knowledge of Natalia that it was most probably the latter. 

“In 2018, an alien named Thanos invaded our planet with a gauntlet of infinite power, and in the process of defeating him and returning what Thanos took from us...” 

Natalia, the Asset could tell, had cared for this man - this version of Captain America. 

Who was he? Who was behind the mask that could push Natalia to the verge of useless tears? 

“In the process of defeating him and restoring our world...” Natalia took a shaky breath. 

“Steve Rogers sacrificed his life yet again to save millions – billions of people. Only, this time, there was no hope of him ever coming back.” 

One last picture arrived on the screen, and the Asset - 

“On March 10th 2018, Steve Rogers died saving the world. You arrived in our world six months later through a portal into his room.” 

The face of Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America appeared, seeming to stare directly at the Asset. 

The expression on his face was accusatory. 

His own face.

* * *

  



	6. Chapter 6

* * *

  


An hour later, the Asset still didn’t understand. 

The face in the picture was him - no. 

No, it was another version of him. 

A version of him with a name, that had friends – someone considered a hero. A version of him that stood for everything the Asset had worked against, had fought to destroy, for decades. A version of the Asset that didn’t know the pain of memory wipes, of seventy years being a lab rat, an assassin, a punching bag and a tool. Steven Grant Rogers was a man that sacrificed his life multiple times for the world and had done so much good. 

The Asset was everything Steven Grant Rogers was not, and it made his head throb and his skin crawl as he wondered what Steven Grant Rogers would have thought of the Asset - if he knew that a version of him existed that had done so much evil in the name of the very people he fought against, over and over again. 

“I am not him.” 

“No.” The Winter Soldier of this world, James Barnes – Bucky - said bluntly. “You’re not.” 

“I will never be him.” The Asset said flatly, turning dead eyes to Barnes. 

“I don’t expect you to be.” Barnes shrugged. It was a half-truth, the Asset could tell, and he was sure Barnes wasn’t even fully aware of it himself. “Not only did you go through seventy years of torture and kill Captain Rogers’ best friend,” The Asset flinched at that. “you aren’t from our world, and we have no idea what you were like before Hydra. So, there’s nothing for me to compare you to - nothing to hope for you to be.” 

“Except,” The Asset pointed out. “for him. Steven Grant Rogers. Your childhood best friend.” 

Barnes flinched visibly, the Asset clearly striking a nerve. 

“You will never be him.” Barnes snapped, sudden fury filling his face. “Never.” 

Barnes looked like he wanted to say more, but he bit down on his words and stormed out instead, leaving the Asset alone in his cell.

  


* * *

  


“You alright there, Buck?” 

Bucky hummed, focusing on the baby goat he was feeding; the little one was growing fast, and wouldn’t need his help for much longer. Bucky dreaded the day that would come; feeding Vanya and his siblings was one of his favorite things to do when he needed to be calm and block out the rest of the world. 

Though by the look of one of the female goats, he might have a few more babies to feed in a month or two. 

“That bad huh?” Clint sat down beside him. The archer reached around Bucky to pet Vanya, smiling a little. “He’s really cute, reminds me of the baby goats Laura had at the farm before…everything.” 

Before the divorce, was what Clint didn’t say, but Bucky heard it loud and clear. Clint’s wife had finally reached the end of her rope with her now ex-husband's dangerous life and had sent him the divorce papers almost a month after their final battle, with a note saying he was welcome to visit the kids but only if he arranged it in advance. 

So far Laura had agreed to a grand total of three visits. 

“Vanya and his siblings are getting too big to feed.” Bucky said softly, “They won’t need me soon.” Clint hummed at Bucky’s words, and smiled sideways at him. 

“But mama goat is gonna have some new babies soon.” He pointed out, “They’ll need your help too.” 

“I can’t replace Vanya and his siblings, though.” Vanya finished the bottle and gave a bleat before trotting off to play. “It won’t be the same,” 

“No, it won’t,” Clint agreed. “But you'll care for them just as much because they’ll need you, just like Vanya and his siblings do now.” 

Bucky huffed, looking at Clint with a wry smile. “We aren’t talking about goats anymore, are we?” 

“You tell me.” 

“I can’t just…replace Steve.” Bucky stood up, crossing his arms and glaring into the distance. “It wouldn’t be fair to his memory.” 

“Nobody said anything about replacing Steve, Bucky.” Clint sighed, kicking a rock. It landed close to one of the older goats, who made a startled sound before sniffing at it curiously. “All I’m saying is that there’s a version of Steve Rogers in that cell who's confused, scared, and very messed up. He needs our help - he needs your help. I’m not saying replace Steve, Bucky; I’m saying remember our Steve and move on. Help the Steve who’s here right now, and who remembers.” Clint smiled. “You never know, maybe he'll turn out to be a really good guy.” 

“…I’m not sure he wants to be helped.” 

“Neither did you, in the beginning.” 

“I don’t even know where to start.” Bucky groaned, and Clint shrugged. 

“You can start by apologizing to Winter for snapping at him and storming off.” The archer smirked when Bucky turned to him, a question on his lips. “For a hardened assassin with a Swiss-cheese brain, he certainly looked like a kicked puppy when you stomped out of there. The guy’s been sulking for a couple of hours now.” 

“Seriously?” Bucky couldn’t picture the man who had not three days before almost snapped his neck without a thought, sulking and acting upset because Bucky left him alone. 

“Seriously.” Clint confirmed. 

“Okay, this I gotta see.”

  


* * *

  


“I am sorry for offending you,” The Soldier said, his stance every bit as stiff and uncomfortable as his voice. “It was not my intention.” 

“It’s fine,” Bucky waved a hand. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you; I’m sorry for that. It was uncalled for.” 

The Soldier nodded, then fell silent. The two stood there in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Bucky spoke. 

“How are you doing - with, you know, discovering that you’re from another reality and all?” 

Winter raised an eyebrow. 

“Nothing much is different so far,” He drawled. “the only difference is that I’m not being sent on missions, and not being tortured and used as an experiment.” 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Much as he hated to admit it, the Soldier – Winter - was right; the man had not been allowed to leave his cell when not heavily sedated, and he didn’t have much in the way of entertainment in the cell, comfy as it was. 

“You know we can’t just… set you free.” Bucky told him stiffly. “You work for HYDRA, and you tried to kill me when you arrived here. Not to mention we know nothing about you.” 

The Soldier scowled. 

“I am bored.” 

Bucky couldn’t miss the glaringly obvious fact that Winter didn’t deny any of his accusations, which really didn’t help Bucky’s internal argument toward trusting him. 

Sure, Bucky wanted to help Winter get better, but in order for that to happen, they needed an idea of what this Steve Rogers was like before he was turned into a killing machine - literally. 

“I can load some movies onto the screen for you to watch. Maybe some audio books. English or Russian?” 

Winter narrowed his eyes, and Bucky could almost see gears turning in his head as he tried to work out how Bucky would benefit from the exchange. 

“What do you want in return?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Everyone wants something. The Asset is not given anything without a price.” 

Bucky’s heart felt heavy at the words, but he was unsurprised; HYDRA had done much the same to him. Bucky knew that this Steve’s version of HYDRA wouldn’t be any more merciful. 

“Yeah well, we aren’t HYDRA. You can have a fucking movie and book for God’s sake.” Bucky muttered angrily, knowing that Winter could hear him. 

“Both, then. Spasibo.” 

Bucky nodded, turning on his heel and walking away; he knew that Winter did not believe him in the slightest, and Bucky couldn’t blame him. It took Bucky a long time to believe that he deserved to receive things without having to do something for them in return. 

The first time he had been handed something and not given a thought to a price for the gift, his Steve had given him a drawing of Bucky surrounded by his goats, not long before the final battle. It still hung proudly in his room above the dresser, framed with care. It was something even his grief-fueled drunkenness and anger had been unwilling to destroy. 

Bucky sought out one of the guards that worked on monitoring the Soldier’s cell. They pumped in fresh air from outside, and provided regular meals that they passed through a slot in the wall. 

“Can you send some movies and audio books in English and Russian to the screen in the Soldier’s cell?” 

The guard looked at him oddly. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” The guard asked skeptically. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “What’s he gonna do, disturb other prisoners by turning it up too loud?” 

“Well, giving him knowledge about our world might -” The guard tried, and Bucky’s eyes hurt he rolled them so hard. 

“I’m not telling you to give him a documentary about government secrets or a step-by-step guide to everyone’s weaknesses.” Bucky snarked, and the guard blushed. “Just give the guy some stuff that will occupy his mind and keep him from being bored outta his skull in there.” 

“Yes, sir.” the guard stammered, nodding his head. 

“Thanks.” Bucky nodded, turning away, before pausing and adding; “Make sure you put all the Disney movies on, but avoid anything involving cut-off limbs.” 

Walking away, Bucky smirked. 

He had an idea.

  


* * *

  


“It can’t be done.” 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Bucky spat, shooting daggers at Tony who was studiously avoiding eye contact with him. 

Bucky had marched into the lab Tony shared (reluctantly on her part) with Shuri, jumping straight into telling Stark his idea. The man had immediately said ‘no way in hell’ at least ten different ways, but Bucky wasn’t about to back down. Not for this. 

“You do know that what you’re proposing is insane, right?” Tony poked a few sparking wires in the device he was working on with a screwdriver. 

“It’s happened before, hence the guy in the cell -” 

“Yeah, and that was a one in a million – no, one in a trillion event. Recreating it is next to impossible!” 

Bucky growled, frustrated beyond belief. “Next to impossible does not mean completely impossible, Tony.” Bucky crossed his arms, glaring down at the scientist. “If anyone could do it, it would be you.” 

“I am extremely offended, White Wolf.” 

Bucky and Tony flinched at the words, the former looking guiltily at the Wakandan princess. 

“Sorry, cub.” Bucky grimaced, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I know you could do it with both hands tied behind your back.” 

“And yet,” Shuri huffed, “you go to the showboating American first.” 

Bucky winced. Okay so that might have been a bad idea, but in his defense - 

“I thought about it,” Bucky admitted. “but you’ve been working so much already, between the tests and scans, and the specs for his limbs -” 

Shuri waved her hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I have been working on his artificial limbs, but most of the other things I have left to the palace doctors, since they have more experience with human anatomy. Now,” She raised an eyebrow. “are you going to ask me what my thoughts are? Or are you two white boys going to keep arguing in front of me like I do not exist?” 

Tony rolled his shoulders and groaned. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously tell me you’re gonna actually entertain this garbage, right?” He scoffed, “Travel between parallel universes is impossible; the science involved is beyond what we're capable of right now, not to mention how stupidly dangerous it would be to even attempt it if it was possible.” 

“It is completely possible.” Shuri shrugged, smiling. 

“So then why haven’t we done it before?” 

“Because,” Shuri sniffed at Tony, “I was never asked to try.” 

The older scientist threw his hands up, huffing. “Fine, enlighten us then.” 

“We have the scans from the time leading up-to and during our guest’s arrival; if we use those scans to replicate the energy from the infinity stones and what came from the portal, we can use the data to recreate the effect that threw the Soldier into our universe.” 

“You want to create infinity stone energy!?” Tony cried, looking aghast. 

“Yup.” 

“…Fine.” Tony sighed. “Tell me the plan.” 

“Well, if we use Gamma radiation mixed with Vita rays…” 

Bucky tuned out at that point, only catching snatches of the discussion about ‘quartz crystals’ and something called a ‘particle stabilizer’, ‘reverse polarity waves’, ‘DNA location targeting’ and the importance of whatever ‘time targets’ were supposed to be. He left the lab, knowing that he would be informed when the two geniuses had cracked multiverse travel.

  


* * *

  


“A little bird told me that you’re planning on travelling to a certain assassin’s universe.” 

Natasha sat down at the table just as Bucky took his first sip of coffee 

Bucky didn’t reply. 

“Sounds like fun.” Natasha continued, unbothered by Bucky’s silence. 

“Too bad I’m going alone then.” Bucky retorted. 

Natasha snorted. “It’s funny that you think any of us would actually let you go by yourself.” 

“It’s not up for debate.” 

“Yeah, no.” Clint had somehow appeared out of thin air and was drinking straight out of the coffee pot. “Sorry Bucky Bear, but that’s our line right now.” 

“Guys, this isn’t some little trip to Europe to take down HYDRA,” Bucky looked at them and crossed his arms. “This is a whole different universe; we don’t even know what it’s like; what if HYDRA won the war over there?” 

“Then you’re definitely not going alone.” Natasha scoffed, “If you don’t remember, the other ‘you’ was Captain America there; HYDRA would go after you with all they have.” 

“Not to mention that the last thing any world needs is a brand-new Winter Soldier,” Clint pointed out, and Bucky flinched at the thought. 

“Okay, you have a point.” Bucky uncrossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. 

“No shit,” Clint snorted, stuffing a donut in his mouth. Mumbling through the dough, the archer added, “I’m pretty sure Stark is going to want to come too.” 

Bucky groaned. “Great, another reckless self-sacrificing asshole to look after.” He complained. “He didn’t even want to invent universe travel.” 

“When have you known a Stark to pass up the opportunity to try out his own inventions?” Natasha smirked. 

“God, I remember when Howard wanted to try out every new weapon he gave us.” Bucky bemoaned. “For a weapons developer, the guy was a shitty shot; if it wasn’t for Stevie’s shield, some of us woulda been nursing wounds before we even left for the front.” 

Clint snickered, reaching for another donut only to stop at Natasha’s narrowed eyes. 

“Oh my God, I wish I was alive back then to see that.” The archer leaned forward. “Tell me more.” 

“Howard once blasted himself across the room by poking at a shard of the tesseract with a pen.” 

Clint wheezed. “Like father, like son?” 

“Oh no,” Bucky groaned. “Tony’s worse. Much worse. At least Howard never tried to add missiles to my arm. I mean, maybe if I had the arm back then he would have...” Bucky admitted, “Okay, so maybe they are just as bad as each other.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Natasha said wryly, “considering the stories I’ve heard from Steve about Howard.” 

Bucky suddenly cursed as a thought ran through his head. 

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, “Winter is gonna wonder where I went; he’ll know something’s up when I don’t visit him after a couple of days.” 

“If you tell him where you're going, he might ask to come with us.” Natasha pointed out, but Bucky shook his head. 

“No. From what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t want anything to do with the HYDRA from his world again; being taken by them would be too much of a risk for him.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Clint questioned, and Bucky nodded. 

“Completely,” Bucky affirmed, looking them in the eye. “and I don’t blame him. If I was him and didn’t have you guys with me, I wouldn’t want to go back either.”

  


* * *

  



	7. Chapter 7

  


* * *

  


James Barnes groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. His body ached as he became more aware of it, and it didn’t spare him from the pain, even though he could tell he had some pretty strong drugs running through his system; one of the downsides to the serum - drugs generally didn’t work on him, unfortunately - not that the doctors and nurses didn’t stubbornly keep giving them to him regardless. 

“On your right.” James shifted his head until he could see a grumpy-looking Sam Wilson. 

“Shit,” James muttered, memories of what happened just before he blacked out racing through his mind. “He fuckin snapped my neck.” James couldn’t help but feel surprised that Grant had actually almost killed him. 

“You’re lucky you’re even alive, dumbass,” Wilson snapped, “I told you he wasn’t someone you could save.” 

“I’m lucky he didn’t get to my spinal cord, or I’d be dead.” Sam suddenly looked like he had sucked on a lemon at James’ words. “What?” The Captain rasped, “What’s that look for, Wilson?” 

“Actually, uh... he did.” Sam coughed, grimacing. 

James frowned, not getting it. “Did what?” 

“He did sever your spinal cord.” 

“But…I’m okay. If he severed my spinal cord, even the serum wouldn’t have saved me.” James pointed out, wincing as his neck gave a protesting twinge at the awkward angle he was holding to talk to Wilson. 

“Yeah…about that.” Sam drawled, avoiding his eyes. 

“Congratulations Barnes, You’re immortal.” James jumped as Tasha’s voice came from his other side. 

“First of all,” James complained, “Get a damn bell. Second,” James hesitated, looking into both Sam and Tasha’s eyes for some sort of joke. “What do you mean, immortal?” 

“The Winter Soldier snapped your neck and severed your spinal cord, then dragged your body out of the Potomac, for reasons we aren’t sure of yet. When we found you, you were dead,” She said bluntly, “No pulse, no heartbeat, pale and cold, body stiff. Six hours later you scared the shit out of the mortician when he went to cut you open and you started breathing. Your neck cracked itself back into place on the table.” 

“So…I was dead,” James said faintly. “And then…I wasn’t?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

Shit. Shitfuckshit! James thought frantically; immortal? No way, he did not want to be immortal. No way in hell. It was bad enough skipping through the years without actually living them; now he was expected to live through all of them? No, thank you. Waking up to find everyone he knew was either dead or too old to remember him was one thing - but having to watch them grow old? Watch them slowly age and wither and die? That was a thousand times worse. 

But he knew he couldn’t afford to focus on that. Right now, he had a missing best friend - or a best friend that didn’t know he was his best friend, running around DC, heavily armed (and legged, James thought to himself deliriously, giggling internally) and dangerous. As much as he wanted to believe that his best friend remembered him, the fact that he had snapped James’ neck said otherwise, even if he had dragged him from the river; he was probably just confirming his kill. James had never been like Grant; even when James weighed 95 pounds and picked fights in alleys, he was aware that none of the bullies he (tried) to beat some sense into would ever really learn. Grant, who had always been healthy and strong, had an optimistic outlook on life, even as he saved James’ skin multiple times, dragging him out of fights and tending to his bruises and cuts. 

James knew that Grant was dangerous right now, and they needed to contain him before HYDRA, whatever was left of it, took him back. Or before Grant lashed out and hurt or even killed someone innocent. James knew that right now, Grant wasn’t Grant: he was the Winter Soldier. The Soldier didn’t have the care and compassion - the gentleness – of Steven Grant, ‘Grant’, Rogers. James didn’t know whether Grant would or could ever have that again. The thought made James’ gut clench, and he shook his head, looking at Natasha. 

“That’s something I’m gonna focus on later.” James shifted, wincing as his body ached and protested the movement. “Do we know the Soldier’s last known location?” 

“No.” Natasha replied. “No sign - not even a whisper. Last sighting was when he walked away after leaving you dead on the riverbank. After that, nothing.” 

“Like a ghost.” James muttered, and Tasha nodded. 

“Exactly.” 

“Wait,” Sam cut in, eyes wide and mouth twisted. “Please don’t tell me you’re actually thinking of going after the guy who snapped your damn neck?” 

“He would do the same for me, if it was the other way ‘round.” James replied; jaw tight. “I have no right to do any less.” 

“You have a right to keep your reckless ass from being killed -” Sam snapped, and James laughed, no humor in the sound. 

“Oh, you mean killed; as in, the thing that I can apparently recover from now?” 

“Just cause you’re immortal now doesn’t mean you should risk your neck for a guy that doesn’t even know you.” 

“He will know me.” James shot back stubbornly, “I’m going to go after him with or without you Sam, and as much as we’re friends, he is my brother, and I will choose him every time.” 

Sam’s angry stance deflated, and he sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. 

“Dammit man, why can’t you just keep your fool ass safe for once?” Wilson groaned, and James shrugged. 

“If I did that, I wouldn’t have been Captain America, and I would probably have died of pneumonia in the 40’s.” 

“Good point.” Sam reluctantly agreed. 

“And the world would probably be under HYDRA rule.” Natasha added. 

James scoffed. “Somebody else could’ve been Captain America; I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” 

“You’re more special then you think, Yasha,” Tasha told him, crossing her legs. “I don’t believe for a second that any other man could have been Captain America and done what you have for the world.” 

“Grant could have done it.” James told her, “If he'd been the skinny one with a body that failed nine times out of ten, he'd probably have done even better.” 

“And where would that have left you?” Natasha shot back, and James opened his mouth to reply, but the first thought that came to his mind made him grimace and pale. 

“Exactly,” She nodded. 

“Any word from Stark?” James changed the subject, and Natasha nodded. 

“He said he wants to help,” She told him, “The Soldier was able to break through his programming in 1991 enough to try and stop the sniper that took out his parents. Tony feels like he owes the guy for trying.” 

“Tony doesn’t owe anyone anything,” James rolled his eyes, “But his help is gonna make this a lot easier.” 

“He’s got JARVIS going through every second of security footage and social media footage, and any pictures taken in New York since the helicarrier fight. We’ve caught a few HYDRA stragglers in the meantime, but if the Soldier steps in front of any camera in New York, Tony will know within a few seconds, and contact us immediately.” 

“The future scares me sometimes.” James confessed. “Nobody has any privacy, as much as this country likes to boast about its freedom.” 

“The price of freedom is high, Barnes. It’s a price the government isn’t willing to pay at the moment.” 

“Yeah well, it’s bullshit,” James grumbled. “People should be able to get a burger without someone being able to get a shot of them at every angle but up their goddamn noses.” 

Sam shrugged, leaning back and looking at James pointedly. “If it weren’t for those cameras there would be no way to find your boy, Cap.” 

“Have I told you how much I hate your logic yet, Wilson?” James glared at Sam, who just smirked at him. 

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll be hearing it a lot more often, since I’m coming with your stupid ass.” 

“Ugh, kill me now.” Bucky whined playfully. 

“Not possible anymore, Barnes.” Sam joked. 

James laughed with Sam, but internally he flinched. 

Nope, still not touching that.

  


* * *

  


James could only feel relief as he left the hospital with Sam and Natasha. He’d hated those places ever since he was that sickly kid who spent what felt like most of his life in there. His dislike of being a patient only got worse after he got the serum; Doctors loved to poke and prod and ask him questions and take samples, and James hated all of it- it made him feel more like a science experiment than a person. 

He nagged the doctors until they finally let him leave, leaving the hospital in the policy wheelchair reluctantly. 

The minute he took a breath of fresh air outside the hospital, James let out a huge breath of relief, his muscles relaxing as he stood and leaned on both Sam and Tasha to walk towards the car that Tony sent to drive them to the tower. 

They would be living in the tower until they caught wind of the Winter Soldier’s location, and James was extremely glad he had such a good and generous friend in Tony Stark, even though they sometimes didn’t see eye-to-eye. People like Tony were one-in-a-million, even if James was often irritated at the man's arrogance. He was a nice guy overall, but he certainly wasn’t known for his great people skills. 

The drive had James drifting in and out of a doze, his healing body tired from all the work it was doing to knit itself back together. 

However, by the time they entered the elevator and set it on its course for the common floor to meet Tony, James was wide awake; he wanted to be alert in case Stark had any news of the Soldier. 

“Wow, Cap. Android-Boy certainly chewed you up and spat you out.” 

“You say the kindest things, Tony.” James drawled sarcastically. “I’m so touched by your concern.” 

The billionaire shrugged. “Just calling it as I see it, Capsicle.” 

Sam steered him towards the couch, and James let out a sigh of relief when he sat down, groaning as his body complained about having to walk so soon. 

Bucky was supposed to be the strong one for these people – he knew that it didn’t make him weak, he knew that he was lucky that he would actually heal this fast from his injuries, unlike other people who didn’t have the luxury of the serum; if he had the power to make it easier for everyone else, he would do it without hesitation; but the details of his serum had died with Erskine. 

Well, with Zola, apparently, Bucky thought grimly. There was no way Grant wasn’t enhanced; the way he fought, his metal limbs, his strength and endurance – yeah, there was no way Steve hadn’t been enhanced with something. 

“You alright, man?” Sam asked him casually, like he hadn’t just watched James take ten minutes to sit on a couch. 

“Fine,” James huffed, his body aching, “just a bit tired. Did you hear any news, Tony?” 

“Not yet.” The genius replied, “BTW, I approve on sending the HYDRA files to JARVIS to sort through and release - smart, very effective.” 

Natasha shrugged. “I wanted to just release them, but James found out about it and vetoed that.” 

“Did he now?” Tony raised a brow, tilting his head, “Lucky you overheard, it would have been a shitshow if Itsy Bitsy here released them without any warning. Thank god for your habit of never knocking, and your light feet.” 

“It wasn’t the best idea,” Natasha admitted, looking contrite. “now that I’ve had time to think more about it.” 

“Well,” Tony clapped his hands together, full of false-cheer, “There’s no use wondering about what didn’t happen. You guys know where your floors are - I’m just going to go pass out for about 14 hours. Have fun, kids.” And with that, he waved goodbye and left without looking back. 

“I dunno about y’all,” Sam said, yawning, “But I’m gonna go pass out on my bed that I apparently have.” 

“Mr. Wilson, I apologize for Sir’s negligence. If you step into the elevator, I will direct you to the correct floor.” 

Sam jumped at the voice of the A.I., making James smirk a bit, even though he had done the same thing when he had first encountered JARVIS. 

“…Okay.” Sam said slowly. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Hal, would it?” 

“Certainly not.” JARVIS sounded as offended as an A.I. could be and Sam raised his hands, a bemused look on his face. “My name is JARVIS: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.” 

“Sorry, had to check.” 

“I think you offended him.” James mock whispered to Sam, who flipped him the bird. 

“Man. Shut up.” 

James waved to Sam as he left, then leaned back into the couch, groaning. 

“Fuck I hurt,” James complained, and Natasha snorted, making James crack an eye open to stare balefully at her. 

“How come you barely have a scratch on you? That’s so not fair.” James whined. 

“Because I wasn’t stupid enough to let the Winter Soldier beat me to death,” Natasha returned, her voice only partly teasing. 

James frowned, his easy mood suddenly gone. “I’m really sorry Tasha,” James said softly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“But you don’t regret it, either,” She observed critically, and James pursed his lips. 

“…No,” James admitted, looking her in the eyes, “I don’t.” 

“You would do it again.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I would.” James confirmed. “Every damn time.” 

“You’re an idiot.” She snapped at him; but her shoulders were relaxed, and her eyes softer. 

“So I’ve been told,” James chuckled. “On many occasions.” 

Natasha joined him on the couch, crossing one leg over her other knee, facing him. 

“Tell me about Grant Rogers,” her voice was sincere, soft, curious. “Tell me about the man you knew.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Bucky smiled, grateful that she wanted to hear about the man that he remembered; the person before the Winter Soldier. 

“Well first of all, Grant Rogers is the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, but he’s also the most annoying little shit ever; like this one time…”

  


* * *

  


“So, I got an alert on our Toy Soldier.” 

Nine days later and they finally had a lead. James occupied himself with cooking shows and stress baking, trying to keep himself awake because he initially decided reading Grant’s files and watching the videos of his torture was a good idea to pass the time in order to know what he was getting into. Apparently, his brain decided this was a fantastic opportunity to give him the worst nightmares of his life on repeat for over a week. 

James wasn’t even sure he was prepared to fight Grant if he ran into him right now; he’d be (temporarily) dead in seconds, probably. 

James ignored these doubts with the ease of long practise. 

“Where?” The Captain demanded, already attaching the shield to his back. 

“…You’re not gonna like it,” Tony hedged, “and you don’t need your shield.” 

Slowly putting his shield down, James looked at Tony with a clenched jaw and hard eyes. 

“What. Happened?” 

“J, play the footage.” 

James watched with a pale face as Grant slunk into an alley, clearly avoiding someone they couldn’t see, and enduring the crappy security camera quality they watched as he was swiftly engulfed in a white light; some sort of portal-looking thing. 

“JARVIS and I scanned the area; there’s no sign of your guy.” Tony said softly, “There were some residual energy readings similar to the Tesseract, Loki’s staff, and the portal from New York in the alley and the area immediately surrounding the incident. I’ve checked all over the world for another portal like this opening up - even just for similar energy readings, but I haven’t found anything.” 

“…That would have taken you a while.” James side-eyed him. 

“It took me three days,” The genius admitted, looking contrite. “but I wanted to be sure.” 

“So, he’s just…gone.” James couldn’t really grasp onto reality at the moment; the edges of his vision were a bit hazy and his pulse pounded in his ears. 

“Sorry Cap, but wherever your boy is - it’s not on Earth. Not this one, at least.”

  


* * *

  



	8. Chapter 8

  


* * *

  


James didn’t remember much past the haze of anger and grief at the revelation that he’d once again lost Grant to something he couldn’t follow or fight. This was the third time he had failed Grant in some way, and Bucky wondered if this time would be the final one; the one that would break him for good. He didn’t want to believe that Grant was beyond his reach. He couldn't let himself entertain the possibility that he would never get his little brother back. 

James had promised Sarah Rogers that he would take care of Grant when he’d become Captain America. Sarah hadn’t been too happy when she found out about James signing up for an experimental medical procedure, and she let him know that with a few choice words in her usual blunt way. So did his sister, who sent him a letter full of annoyance at his ‘stupidest stunt yet’ and how when he got home, she was going to kick his ass – huge muscles or no. James remembered smiling when reading that letter, and looking forward to the inevitable ass-kicking that came from so much love and concern. 

Seventy years later, and Rebecca Barnes is ninety-five years old and living in a nursing home, unable to remember she ever had a brother. 

James apologized to Sarah Rogers in his head, even though he knew the tough woman wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. 

Seventy years later, Grant Rogers – or at least his body – was walking around; memory gone, and body ripped apart and put back together by mad scientists. James wanted to throw up every time he thought of those four metal limbs; did Grant lose them in the fall? Or was that just yet another way for HYDRA to hurt him, to own him and mark Grant as theirs? 

James didn’t want to think about the pain Grant must have been in when they took off his limbs and replaced them with those metal ones; he very much doubted HYDRA would give one of their enemies’ pain relief or any comforts during surgery.

  


* * *

  


“You know, Stark isn’t going to stop searching for a way for you to get your Grant back.” 

“I know.” James muttered, trying to concentrate on his drawing; Grant had always been better than him at drawing, but he was no slouch himself. Steve just had more opportunities to practice his art. Charcoal was easier to make at home instead of buying expensive pencils – ones that Grant had scrimped and saved to buy for James one very memorable birthday – and it gave Grant a head start on drawing and practice, while James’ weak lungs couldn’t handle the charcoal dust or the smoky smell that they gave off, or the methods they had to use to make them. They found the best sticks in Central Park, and sometimes if they were lucky, there would be scraps of hard vines from the dumpster of that weird little shop on the corner, and Grant would carefully charcoal them in the crappy little oven with the window open, cracking the oven door just a little to keep the heat in. 

Grant’s face stared back at him, Sergeants’ uniform with his crooked hat, smiling at James from the page. One of the last memories he had of Grant before he left for Europe for the war. One of the last times James had seen him smile that wide, youthful innocence still shining from those twinkling blue eyes. 

“That’s really good, James; you have a lot of talent.” Natasha sat down beside him. 

“Thanks, Tasha,” James gave her a small, but sincere smile. “Grant was the one with the real talent though; he could capture every bit of someone’s face down to the last freckle.” He resisted the urge to run a finger down the cheek of the drawing, like he saw Grant’s ma doing the few times Grant was sick when they were young; he didn’t want to smudge the drawing – he didn’t trust that he would be able to capture Grant’s image again. 

“So you’ve said.” Natasha agreed, before suddenly saying; “He trained me – The Winter Soldier.” She added when James gave her a confused look. 

“You never said.” James murmured, and Natasha shifted, suddenly looking uncomfortable. 

“The man I knew as Stepan Yakov was…very different from the Grant Rogers that you’ve told me about.” Natasha told him, and James knew that – of course Grant would be different; he had been tortured and brainwashed for years and had his limbs cut off – anyone would be different. But the way Natasha said it sounded like there was a lot more to it than that. 

“What do you mean?” 

She sighed, bringing her legs up onto the couch and hugging them to her chest, laying her chin on her knees. 

“Stepan was a true Russian Soldier. He loved the Motherland, and he would do anything our superiors told him to if they said it would benefit Russia – including training twelve girls from the age of five until they were ready for their first mission.” 

Not looking at James, she spoke quietly, “I was six when they sent the Soldier and I on my very first mission. I posed as Stepan’s ballerina daughter at a show a notable politician was attending. I poisoned his drink while Stepan killed his wife and staged it as a fall downstairs. I was just six years old, and the Winter Soldier told me he was proud of my first kill - but my technique was sloppy and needed work.” Natasha looked at James, her green eyes had a wet sheen to them. “I was six when I decided I would become the best assassin in the Red Room. I never surpassed the Soldier, but by the time I was sixteen and the graduation ceremony finished, I was the last Widow standing.” She took a breath. “I turned 17 in 1962.” 

James’ eyebrows shot to his hairline at that. “But you look -” 

“I know.” She smirked self-deprecatingly. “I don’t look like I’m old enough to be your grandmother. I was born in 1945, in a Red Room experiment to make more super soldiers. They thought that by combining the DNA of a super-soldier with a chosen female carrier, they could make more Red Room weapons. They had no idea one of their best weapons would eventually turn on them.” 

James was silent as his mind raced. The implications alone… 

“Does he know?” 

“Does who know?” She replied, even though she knew exactly what he meant. 

“You know what I mean, Tasha. Does Stepan know that he’s your father?” 

Natasha didn’t answer for a few moments, instead she chose to take the drawing from his arms and gaze at with something like - longing? He stayed quiet, letting her have her time. 

“I don’t know.” She finally said, voice soft as she continued to look at the drawing. Her right hand was raised, fingers twitching; as if she too wished to stroke the cheek of the man whose DNA she shared, and who had – in his own way - raised her and twelve other little girls. “If he ever found out, he never said. Though it would explain why he favored me; I was the only one of the twelve of us that shared his DNA.” 

“What about the rest of them?” 

She looked at him, eyes hard, and filled with something else that he had trouble figuring out, until - 

“…Did you ever want children, James?” 

Oh. 

“Oh.” 

It was pity he saw in her eyes. 

He realised he didn’t really have to ask; he already knew what the cruel answer would be. 

“What -” He cut himself off, coughed, then cleared his throat that suddenly felt tight and dry. “What happened to them?” 

“I think you know; he chose me.” 

Bowing his head, James mourned the eleven little girls that he would never get to know and love. 

“Do you blame me?” 

James didn’t even have to think about it. 

“No.” 

Natasha looked shocked, her face open, clearly surprised by his answer. 

“Why not?” 

“I can’t blame you for surviving when you were trained to survive, and I can’t blame you for doing what you were raised to do. You got out when you had the chance; started doing good. That’s all that matters.” James bit his lip. “Am I upset that I will never get to know my - get to know them? Yeah, that stings. But…I can’t blame you, or him; I just blame the people who gave the orders.” 

Natasha looked at him, her eyes searching for something - blame, anger, who knew? - but whatever she found, it caused a few tears to spill down her cheek, and she chuckled, the sound both sad and disbelieving. 

“You…are an impossibly good man, James. The world doesn’t deserve you. We don’t deserve you.” 

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn;” Bucky shook his head. “I’m nothing special.” 

“You are.” She smiled at him. “I just wish you could see it.” 

James could only shrug.

  


* * *

  


James tried to avoid thinking too much about the revelations Natasha had given him. He knew that if he dwelled on the fact that he had eleven children born from his DNA, all killed by The Winter Soldier before they turned seventeen… It would be a spiral he wouldn’t be able to drag himself out of. 

James had always wanted kids, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the relationship that came along with them - that had never interested him, to be honest. He was undesirable when he was small and skinny and on the verge of death, and when he was healthy and big everyone was always mainly interested in him for his body; always touching. It made him uncomfortable in ways that the platonic touches, hugs, and cuddles with Grant never had. Grant had been the same way, and James had always been thankful that he would never have to share his best friend with some dame that could never accept their unusually close platonic relationship. 

Grant had mentioned adoption sometimes, when they were talking about their dreams; Grant wanted a set of siblings, and James agreed, though he said he would love it if they were twins. 

The thought that Grant actually had a kid, and James had had eleven… James knew that when Grant eventually broke out of his brainwashing and realized what he had done… He knew that Grant was going to drown in guilt; James wanted to be there for him, so the man didn’t do anything stupid in his time of grief.

  


* * *

  


Bucky dreaded having to tell Winter about him leaving for an unknown amount of time. Bucky had been avoiding telling the Soldier about his eventual departure for two weeks now, and Bucky knew that Winter was aware he was hiding something. He was sure the assassin wouldn’t want to follow him, but he was nervous that while he was gone Winter would lash out. 

Winter had gotten better in the month that he’d been with them, but his memories were still few and far between; Bucky could visit, and Winter would remember something good, and share the pleasant memory with him; or Bucky could arrive in the morning and Winter would have remembered something horrible the night before and would haltingly tell Bucky about the memory in a monotone voice that gave him chills. Sometimes Bucky came down and it would be a simple memory of eating a meal. On other occasions he didn’t remember much at all. Sometimes, he would remember a mission and would go mute, his eyes far away and wet. The only way they knew that he was recalling a kill was when he would add to the tally on his digital tablet. Bucky tried not to think about how large that tally had grown in the past month. 

This time, Bucky came down and he found Winter in an unusual position that made his chest go tight. 

The man was hunched over, his hair in a loose braid that threatened to unravel, and a small puddle on the floor that Bucky realized with horror was tears. 

Winter’s shoulders were shaking, and Bucky could hear muffled sobs coming from the cell. 

Bucky’s heart ached as he saw the abject misery that radiated from Winter, and he felt a strong urge to open the cell and pull the large man into a hug. He had to remind himself that the Soldier was just as likely to snap his neck than give him a hug in return. 

“Winter, you alright pal?” Bucky called; voice gentle. 

Winter froze, shoulders rigid; his sobs hitching in that massive chest as he raised his head, red-rimmed eyes full of misery and pain. 

“I killed them.” He rasped, his voice raw. 

Bucky winced; He knew this was coming; but which ‘them’ was Winter talking about? The Soldier looked like his world had been ripped apart; clearly it was someone personal, someone close. A group of someone’s. 

“Who did you kill, Winter?” Bucky kept his voice soft, but not coddling. Non-confrontational and with no hint of blame. “Do you want to tell me?” 

Winter shook his head, lip trembling, and Bucky found himself uncomfortable in the face of the assassin’s sudden surge in emotion; the Soldier was usually very reluctant to reveal his true feelings, and he had never truly wept before. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, then.” Bucky told him, sitting on the comfortable chair that he had dragged in after the fifth time he had visited the cell and its occupant. 

Winter looked at him and his jaw tightened, a stubborn look coming over his face that reminded Bucky far too much of the man whose face the Soldier shared. 

“You…you’re not him, but you deserve to - to know.”

  


* * *

  


Winter knew that he had to tell this man about the Widows. He wasn’t able to give the information to Captain America: James B Barnes (Jamie), so this world’s version would have to do. This man deserved to know about what he had done to the children that, in another world, shared his DNA. 

The Widows were his greatest regret. He didn’t want to kill them - he fought his Handlers on the decision after they sent Natalia away. He almost succeeded until they said the words. Then he could only watch as his body betrayed him and carried out his master’s orders: watched in horror as the eleven little girls met their ends at his own hands. All he could offer them was to make it quick and painless. 

“I trained them.” Winter said, refusing to look away from the strange version of the man he had wronged. 

“Who did you train?” Barnes leaned forward, eyes sharp. 

“The Widows. Twelve little girls. I trained them.” 

Winter could see the wheels turning in Barnes’ head as he pieced his words together, until he suddenly paled.

  


* * *

  


Bucky felt sick as he finally put the pieces together. 

Bucky had trained the Widows as well, but he had been taken away after he helped Natalia escape, and the other eleven Widows continued to train with different instructors. 

“I killed them.” 

Oh god. 

“They made me train them until they were seventeen, but they noticed that one of the girls was far above the rest.” 

Natalia… 

“They thought it was because she was made from my DNA; the perfect weapon.” 

…What? 

“She…was your daughter?” Bucky breathed, eyes wide. 

Did that mean Natasha…? 

“Yes. They wanted to see how my DNA would fare against DNA from another super-soldier. They made more than one, to allow for a larger study.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh god, no. 

“They set the DNA of the Winter Soldier, and the DNA of Captain America against each other, and when the victor became clear, they discarded the rest.” 

Bucky couldn’t - he couldn’t breathe; there was a weight on his chest that felt as heavy as a ten-ton car and he couldn’t breathe. 

“They didn’t care that their Winter Soldier was reluctant to terminate the eleven little girls. He - I - tried to refuse. I fought and killed many of the handlers; but they used the words, and all I could do was make it quick, and make sure they didn’t feel any pain.” 

Bucky needed - he needed Natalia – Natasha. He needed - 

I’m going to vomit. 

“I have to go -” Bucky gasped, before rushing out of the room. 

He found himself feeling a crawling sense of déjà vu as he emptied his stomach in the toilet closest to the cell.

  


* * *

  


An hour later Bucky found himself staring at a bottle he had swiped from Thor’s rooms, empty since the God was visiting New Asgard in Maine. 

The temptation to crack open the Asgardian mead and get black-out drunk was strong. It wouldn’t take much - just a few mouthfuls, maybe a bit more. Then he could escape this nightmare, even for a little while. He knew it would be an unwise decision. Going back to his old habits wasn’t something he wanted to do, but right at this moment with the news that he had just been given, drinking himself into a coma sounded like a tempting idea. 

“Dead family sucks, huh?” 

Bucky flinched; not only at the sudden appearance of Tony sitting in front of him, but also because of his words. 

Bucky knew Tony had forgiven Bucky about his mom and dad; had told him it wasn’t his fault in the first place, that he was just the weapon. Even with the older man’s reassurances, Bucky never truly forgave himself for being the instrument in the deaths of his good friend and his wife. 

In front of him, Tony grimaced; “Okay - bad choice of words, but it’s true.” 

“Tony, I just wanna be alone right now.” Bucky groaned, but the genius just snorted. 

“And leave you to drink yourself to death?” He asked seriously, “Not likely, Icepop.” 

“I’m not going to drink myself to death, pal.” Bucky muttered, not looking Tony in the eye. 

“Oh yeah?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, but personal experience and the bottle you’re holding says different.” 

Bucky sent the man a weak glare, suddenly exhausted, but Tony just leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and staring at him neutrally. 

“Talk to me, Bucky.” 

Letting out a deep sigh, Bucky rubbed his face roughly. Filling his lungs, he let out a deep breath before he spoke. 

“They weren’t even mine.” He started, before Tony cut him off. 

“Technically, they were, bud. If you checked the DNA, they would be yours - I bet you a million dollars. We compared Steve’s DNA to Winter’s and they matched exactly except for a stronger version of the serum.” 

“I’m not even mad at him.” Bucky admitted, “I can’t be - I know what HYDRA and the Red Room is like - I know the control their words have over a person.” 

“Well you’re already a better man then I am, Bucky.” Tony grimaced. 

Bucky didn’t reply to that; Tony had already admitted he was wrong about the Civil War, and Bucky didn’t want to re-open those wounds. 

“I’m just…I’m mad at HYDRA, at the Red Room, and the fact they did something so…horrible.” 

“Then be mad,” Tony told him, “but don’t drown yourself in a bottle. Do what I do: take it out on a few punching bags or build a few robots. But don’t do something you’ll regret later; trust me, it never helps in the long run.” 

Bucky nodded, and Tony got up. 

“Good talk, Iceman.” 

Standing, Bucky grabbed his gym bag and decided to take Tony’s advice. 

Halfway through punching the grain out of a bag, Bucky remembered he forgot to tell Winter about Bucky visiting his home universe. 

“Shit.”

  


* * *

  



	9. Chapter 9

  


* * *

  


Bucky rushed back to the cell, his anger still there but somewhat soothed from hours of punching and self-reflection. 

He skidded to a stop when he got to the cell, face twisting at the sight of Winter curled up in a shivering ball, his metal limbs whirring in distress. The Soldier was muttering something under his breath, and Bucky felt his heart drop when he stepped closer to hear it: 

“I’m sorry…Sorry…I didn’t want to…Please…” 

Bucky cursed under his breath. He should have reassured Winter that he didn’t blame him for the Widows, and he should have at least done that before he left in a hurry, leaving Winter to drown in guilt and most likely believe that Bucky blamed him and hated him. 

Gone was the terrifying assassin of two months ago. Yes, the man was still brain-damaged and would often trail off in the middle of talking. Other times he would go blank (an absence seizure, Shuri told him; not unexpected after the inujries Winter’s brain had suffered) and unresponsive to outside stimuli. But now the assassin had been regaining some of his memories and had full use of his emotions, even if he tried to disguise them. This was still a version of Steve Rogers, and as far as Bucky was concerned, he was sure that every Steve Rogers felt deeply about everything. 

So, Bucky should have known that Winter would take this very personally; would crucify himself for being the reason Bucky, or a version of him, would never get to know the eleven little girls that had shared his DNA. 

“It’s not your fault, Winter.” Bucky rasped, his own throat tightening in response to the man’s misery. “I would never blame you.” 

Winter’s shoulders hitched, and his sobs tapered off to a low whine that sounded like it came from a wounded animal. 

“You should.” Came the whisper, full of pain and self-loathing, “I killed them with my bare hands -” 

“No.” Bucky snapped, his voice firm; he wasn’t going to let Winter continue to blame himself for this, not when he could help - not when it wasn’t even his fault at all. 

“I don’t blame a weapon for firing; I blame the people who held it and pulled the trigger. You were a weapon, Winter, not the killer. I blame HYDRA and the Red Room, not you.” 

Winter looked like he wanted to protest when he finally turned around to face Bucky; his face twisted and his mouth opened to argue but Bucky shot him a deadly look that had the fearsome assassin thinking twice before closing it again. 

“It wasn’t you behind the wheel, Winter.” Bucky added, and Winter huffed, shooting him a sad smile. 

“But I did it.” And Bucky couldn’t say anything to that; he had said the exact same thing to his Steve, once upon a time. 

Now he could say logically that it wasn’t really him, of course; but his own experience taught him that no matter how much he tried to argue, Winter would never believe him. 

“I came down here to tell you something.” Bucky changed the subject. 

Winter perked up immediately; eyes sharpening, back straight. 

“What is it?” 

Shifting on his feet, Bucky looked at Winter with a grimace. 

“I’m going to visit your home universe, once we figure out how to get there.” 

Winter paled, and his shoulders jerked, machinery whirring and recalibrating. 

“Why?” Winter ground his teeth. “Why would you need to go there?” 

Bucky sighed, and he leaned back in his chair. “Because we don’t know who you were before you arrived here, and we need information if we're going to help your recovery.” 

Winter sneered, his lip curling; but Bucky could see the grief hidden behind his eyes, and knew quite suddenly that somehow Winter had hidden from them one very important thing. 

“The one person who might have known and cared about me died when I snapped his neck on the shore of the Potomac.” 

“You remember.” Bucky breathed, “You remember your Bucky.” 

Winter nodded, lip trembling. 

“…I called him Jay.” Winter said finally, voice tight and wet. “He called me Grant. My first name always reminded me of my abusive father.” 

Bucky felt a jolt of shock at the admission. His Steve’s father had died before Steve was born - from mustard gas in the great war - and his name had been Joseph Rogers. Steve was named after Sarah Roger’s grandfather. 

“You remember a lot more then you’ve said.” 

Winter shook his head. “No, just fragments. That… is one of the first things that came back. Almost two weeks ago. I…elected to keep it from you.” Winter huffed. “I am sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky shook his head. “You have the right to share your memories however you want to. Which reminds me: Would you like to be called Grant, now?” Bucky asked him. 

Winter lifted his lips into a small, crooked smile, and huffed out a small laugh. Uncurling from his ball, the man crossed his cybernetic legs and rested his metal arms on his knees, servos whirring quietly. 

“I…would like that. Hearing that name from someone else would be…nice. But,” Winter – Grant - added, “Only you, and Natasha. I don’t…Nobody else. Please.” 

“Of course,” Bucky nodded, “Whatever you say, Grant.” 

Grant smiled at him then; It was the brightest and most genuine smile Bucky had seen on his face since he’d arrived. It was still dimmed a little by the weight of grief, but the hope of something more was now visible beyond.

  


* * *

  


If Bucky had assumed that inventing multiverse travel was going to be a quick thing, he was very, very wrong. He hadn’t really given much thought to the logistics in the first place, but the fact that it had been almost a month since Shuri and Tony had started trying to implement what was before an ‘impossibility’ had set him straight; they weren’t even close to trying to build whatever it is they needed to make it work. The reasons why, of course, were simple – to Shuri and Tony, at least. 

“We cannot send him back until the right time, with the right alignment of stars, weather conditions and energy readings - not to mention we need to isolate the molecular energy that built the portal and copy it down to the last particle - we need 100% perfect conditions for it to work, so we need to replicate the exact conditions from when it first appeared.” 

Bucky growled out a frustrated breath, reaching up with both hands to tug at his hair. 

“How the hell are you supposed to figure all that out? I’m not a genius but even I know that's insane!” 

“That, my dear Bucky Bear, is why we built a machine to analyze the readings we gathered when the portal arrived, and it will tell us when it will happen again; give or take a few days. Or weeks.” Tony added sheepishly. 

Relaxing his stance, Bucky raised an eyebrow. That sounded…impressive. 

“Can this thing tell you if anything like this has happened before?” 

Shuri snorted. “Of course, it can; but it will not - because never before has somebody traveled between universes. We would have known.” 

A chiming sound came from the machine and Shuri’s brows furrowed. Whipping her head around, she rushed to the screens with Tony following her, looking excited but pale. 

“What?” Bucky stepped forward and tried to read over their shoulders, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of whatever they were looking at. “What’s going on?” 

“Apparently,” Shuri cleared her throat, turning to face Bucky while partially blocking the screen. “I was wrong.” 

“We were both wrong.” Tony pointed out; Bucky felt a tingle of fear run down his spine when he noticed both of them looking grim and upset. 

“What is it? What does this say?” 

“According to the readings,” Tony swallowed, “universe travel has happened before.” 

Bucky scrunched his nose up, confused and feeling cold dread run its fingers down his spine. “What? When?” 

“Fairly recently.” Tony said breezily, though his pallor and slightly shaking hands gave him away. 

“Tony, what is it?” Bucky looked between Shuri and Tony, concerned at the way they were avoiding him. 

“It’s Cap, Bucky.” Tony blurted, “The same readings from when Winter arrived happened the exact moment Steve…well.” Tony twisted his face into a sad imitation of a smile. “I guess he didn’t die after all. Just...” Tony gulped; a false smile still plastered on his face. 

“- Just traveled through his own portal, into what we're pretty sure is Winter’s universe.” 

What? 

“What?” 

Bucky couldn’t believe his ears. Steve wasn’t dead? He couldn’t help the surge of hope that filled his chest and made him want to simultaneously burst into tears and yell with joy. The fact that his brother wasn’t dead, just displaced was - it was - 

God, he didn’t even know. There were so many emotions battling in his brain his face didn’t know which one of them to show first. 

“Oh my god!” Bucky gasped, “Oh my god, he’s alive. Jesus Christ that stubborn punk is goddamn immortal I swear to god!” Bucky couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that tumbled from his lips, that turned into sobs just seconds later. 

“He’s alive...” 

“Yeah bud.” Tony said softly, and Bucky felt the man place his hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “The big guy’s alive and kicking.” 

“Yes.” Shuri said, and Bucky looked up at her tone to see a grim look on her face. 

“Shuri, what is it?” 

“He is in the alternate universe, where Steve Rogers is known as a terrorist assassin. Also, he could have unknown injuries from whatever the transfer did to him. He was alive when he left, but…” 

“He could’ve died from his injuries moments after he arrived there.” Tony concluded grimly.

  


* * *

  


James stared incredulously at the unconscious body lying in Tony Stark’s med bay. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing; down to every blond hair and the last freckle, this man was identical to the friend he grew up with. The only differences were the lack of metal limbs and the burnt to hell left arm, and multiple injuries that had the man in a medically induced coma so he could heal. 

“Tell me again.” The Captain demanded, and Stark swallowed before continuing, still staring at the figure in the medical bed with a scientist’s gleam in his eye. 

“I decided to check if there were any other occurrences of portals that took people into an alternate universe like the one that took our Soldier, and when my machine dinged I found a newspaper clipping from England that showed a man appearing out of nowhere with multiple injuries in the middle of a London street. Flew over there, took one look at the guy and demanded custody. Took pulling a few strings thanks to Pepper, but here ya go: One alternate universe version of your pal, your buddy - your Grant.” 

Tony waved dramatic jazz-hands and James resisted the urge to smack him. 

“So, this guy is Grant, but from an alternate universe? The one my Grant is in right now?” 

“Yup,” Tony popped, “and let me just say: whatever he fought before he got here, I would hate to go up against - dude was in way worse shape when he first arrived, according to the nurses. They could barely keep him alive. Had to keep him in isolation due to radiation poisoning.” Tony furrowed his brows. “If SHIELD was still around, they’d have scooped him up quick.” 

James paled at the thought, images of the man before him locked away in some SHIELDRA lab running through his brain. There was no doubt in his mind that they would have jumped at the chance to turn this man into another Winter Soldier. 

Not to mention that even without HYDRA’s influence, he couldn’t see SHIELD being gentle with a universal traveler, injured and unconscious or not. 

“Thank god for small mercies.” James replied with an exhale, and Tony nodded, a similar look of realization on his face. 

“Did they get anything out of him before they put him in a coma?” James asked, and Tony shook his head. 

“Nope. Apparently, the guy was already out cold when they got to him, and they put him in the coma so he could continue to heal; though they said that it took far more drugs then usual to keep him under. I had to use your ‘special’ meds for this guy.” 

“He’s enhanced like me.” James concluded, then grimaced, “And like Grant. Do you think…?” 

Tony chuckled, suddenly gleeful, and rushed to a bag full of clothes, presumably the man in the bed's original clothing. 

“That’s the thing:” Tony reached into the bag, and with a grin, revealed a far-too-familiar costume; “Cap, meet Cap!” Tony laughed, and James raised his eyebrows. 

“That universe’s Captain America was Grant?” The Captain asked incredulously. “Then who was - ? Oh, shit.” 

“Yeah.” Tony lost his cheerful look, shoving the clothes back into the bag. “Yeah, it was probably the other version of you, Cap. Kinda hard to imagine you as…that.” 

“That’s…weird.” James shifted uncomfortably. 

Changing the subject, Tony pointed to the man on the bed. “Good news; we can wake up this guy now - the docs said he’s past the danger point, and he’s healed enough. They took him off the drugs to keep him under before I called you, so he should be waking up soonish.” 

“I dunno if I’m ready to meet the guy yet.” James admitted, running a hand through his hair. “What if I scare the guy? If the other version of me is the Winter Soldier…” 

Tony shrugged, “I’m pretty sure the Winter Soldier wouldn’t look much like you, Cap.” 

“Tony, if it’s another version of me -” 

“I’m just saying,” Tony raised a brow, “that Grant looked mighty different from the guy you knew before he fell from a train. I bet this guy’s version of James Barnes looks a hell of a lot different after all that too.” 

Bucky had to concede that point, and he nodded. “Hope he doesn’t come up swinging.” James huffed. “He’ll rip his damn stitches.” 

“Doubt the guy’s gonna be fighting or dancing any time soon.” Tony nodded at the sleeping man. “He’ll be in a lot of pain when he wakes up, no matter what drugs we give him.” 

“There’s nothing we can do about that?” James scowled, and Tony shook his head. 

“Nope. We’re not sure exactly how his serum works, so we’re not gonna put him on anything too strong until we know he can handle it." 

Throwing himself gracelessly in the closest chair next to the bed, James waved a hand at Tony. “You go then, I’ll just wait here until he wakes up. The faster we figure out how to re-create what happened with this guy and Grant, the faster we can get this guy home and my guy back.” 

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to leave you alone with a version of the guy that snapped your neck?” Tony yelped, and James sniffed, unimpressed. 

“You said it yourself: the guy is his world’s version of Captain America.” James scoffed, “I very much doubt he’s going to kill me.” 

“What if Captain America’s evil in that universe?” Tony tried, and James shot him a look that made Tony sheepishly rub the back of his neck. 

“Okay, fine.” Tony pointed a finger at him, pouting. “But if the guy kills you, I get to say, ‘I told you so’ when you revive again!” 

“Yeah, whatever Tony.” James snorted, “Now scoot.” 

“Yes Sir, Captain Sir!” Tony raised his hand in a sarcastic, sloppy salute before flouncing out, already whipping out a tablet from somewhere and tapping on it, mumbling to himself. 

“Well, it’s just me an’ you now, pal.” James sighed, leaning back and preparing to wait a while.

  


* * *

  



	10. Chapter 10

  


* * *

  


Steve fully expected to die when he snapped his fingers. He knew that when he reversed the snap that he would be taking on power that would be overwhelming for even his serum-enhanced body; but he didn’t care. This was bigger than him, and he would do whatever it took to save his friends - to save the universe. It was the right thing to do, and if he had to die doing it, then at least he could die knowing he tried everything he possibly could. 

The minute he snapped his fingers, a bright white light surrounded the battlefield and all the injuries he sustained during the fight paled in comparison to the searing pain that engulfed his whole body; the worst of it centered from the hand wearing the gauntlet all the way up to his face on that side. It felt like his flesh was melting off his bones, and he wanted to scream but his mouth refused to move, his lungs refused to breathe as a wave of energy crashed through him and he felt his body being torn apart. As he blacked out, his last thought was to hope that his death had meant something; that he had been able to return those that Thanos had snapped away. 

He imagined that an afterlife would be less painful. 

His whole body ached, but it was nothing compared to his left side. His left arm from fingers to shoulder was raw down to the bone. 

He floated in a painful darkness, not regretting his choices for a second, but he wished that he could have avoided the pain somehow. 

He floated for some time; he wasn’t sure how long. He didn't have any reference points to give time meaning. He found himself missing Bucky, and hoping that his brother didn’t take his death too hard. He knew it was futile; he himself hadn’t taken Bucky’s numerous ‘deaths’ well at all, and he doubted Bucky would cope much better. 

He was glad his friends would be there for Bucky though; everyone had hopefully returned with Bucky with the reversal of the snap, so they would be there to comfort him. 

He didn’t know how much longer he floated before he began to hear something; a familiar continuous beeping - a heart monitor. Why would there be a heart monitor if he was dead? 

He suddenly became aware of sheets covering his body, and the familiar feeling of lying in a semi-comfortable hospital bed. A feeling he certainly never expected to experience again. 

Shifting, he hissed through his teeth at the pain that moving cost him, and then coughed, his throat as dry as the desert. 

A straw suddenly touched his lips, and he grasped for it with his mouth blindly, his eyes still closed; not willing to move any more than he had already tried. 

“There you go pal, slow sips.” came Bucky’s voice, and Steve’s face twitched into a smile; of course, Bucky was at his bedside. He wouldn’t expect anything less. Bucky had always been there for him when he was injured. 

“Thanks Bucky.” Steve rasped, then frowned when he heard Bucky choke beside him. 

“Bucky? What’s wrong?” Steve struggled to open his eyes, wincing at the bright light battering his eyeballs. 

“…I’m not…Bucky, pal.” 

Steve felt ice grip his heart. This had to be hell, then. Maybe he deserved it. Over the years he had done a lot of things - for the right reasons - that were still counted as a sin in the Bible, even if he didn’t have a lot of belief anymore. Maybe that was why? 

Squinting, he looked to his left and was met with a confusing sight: 

It was Bucky with short and modern hair, wearing Steve’s stealth suit. But it fit Bucky like it was made for him, and he…had two flesh arms? What? 

“What type of hell is this?” Steve mumbled, and the Bucky-copy’s eyebrows shot straight up to his forehead. 

“You’re not in hell, pal,” The man drawled, before his brow furrowed and he frowned. “Why do you think you’re in hell?” 

“You think you’re not Bucky again.” Steve couldn’t help but notice his slurred words, and he could tell he was on some pretty gnarly drugs. Even if they weren’t enough to take away his pain, they were apparently enough to make his brain fuzzy and scramble his speech. 

“Why does hell have me on drugs?” Steve wondered out loud, and the Bucky-copy snickered. 

“You’re high as a kite, Grant.” 

“My name’s Steve, jerk…” Steve mumbled out, before he felt himself falling asleep again.

  


* * *

  


James couldn’t hide his surprise when the man told him that his name was ‘Steve.’ The guy mustn’t have had an abusive father in his world. James couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy on behalf of Grant. 

“He’s still in pain, but the drugs are clearly affecting him.” Bruce suddenly appeared beside James and made him jump. 

“Jeez, big guy.” James complained, clutching at his chest. “Warn an old man, will ya?” Bruce just shrugged, shooting him a shy grin. 

“I’m thinking we should increase the overall analgesia while weaning him from the stronger sedatives. It'll reduce the risk of delirium but hopefully still work for his pain.” 

“You gotta admit,” Bucky observed, “he doesn’t seem evil.” 

“He did ask if he was in hell.” Bruce pointed out. “Why would he ask that if he hadn’t done something wrong?” 

“He was Captain America in his world.” James sighed. “That means he was a soldier. If you’re a soldier and you have any type of belief in heaven or hell, then usually…” Bucky shook his head. “Comes with the killing, I guess. Even if you’re working toward the greater good.” 

Bruce grimaced, adjusting his glasses and shuffling his feet. 

“Yeah, I guess I can see how a soldier would think that way,” 

Bruce fiddled with a few of the IV lines, then stepped back. 

“That should help him with his fuzzy mind and work more for his pain. He'll be waking up soon once they start wearing off, so I’m going to just…” 

James nodded, and Bruce gratefully smiled and left the room. 

“You can wake up any time now, pal.” James groaned. 

“Jerk.” Came the reply from the bed, and James sat up straight, eyes locking onto a pair of familiar blues. 

“So, you’re ‘Steve’ in your universe, huh?” James blurted, then internally smacked himself upside the head. 

Steve looked at James with confusion, but he was much more aware than he was when he first woke up almost two hours ago. 

“My… universe?” The Captain inquired, stumbling a little over the phrase. James noted that this Steve wrinkled his nose adorably when he was confused, too. 

“You don’t remember what happened before you got here?” James asked, instead of answering. 

Steve frowned a little but said, “Yeah, I…I just undid the snap…and I thought I…” He trailed off, and James nodded in sympathy. 

“You thought you died. Seems to happen a lot with those of us who hold the Shield.” 

“Wait, what?” Steve rasped, turning to look at him in bewilderment (and without showing any pain, James noted with satisfaction). 

“Whatever you did with this ‘snap’, pal: it sent you to a different universe. My universe. I’m Captain America here.” 

Steve, James observed, didn’t seem too shocked about his universal travel revelation; he was distressed about something else. 

“How do I get back to mine then?” Steve shifted in the bed, looking at James with wide eyes. “I need to get back to Bucky. He probably thinks I’m dead.” Steve paled. “The first time I thought he died, I crashed a plane in the arctic.” Steve stressed, and James grimaced, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, see,” James rolled his shoulders, “that’s the thing, pal - we have no idea how to send you home yet. I mean, we’re working on it, but…” James hesitated, and Steve clearly caught on to the fact the James was holding something back. 

“What?” Steve demanded; his voice was dark, and he looked at James much like Grant had looked at him when they faced off on the helicarrier: Dangerous, and driven. 

“Do you have a Winter Soldier in your world?” He asked Steve, who nodded, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, why?” Steve asked, suspicion dripping from his words. 

“Well, If I’m Cap in this world, then really there’s only one option for the Winter Soldier.” James said, not really giving a straight answer but Steve put the pieces together anyway, like James knew he would. 

“What do you...?” Steve paled. “Oh. Shit. That’s…fuck.” James raised his eyebrows at the curse but didn’t comment. Instead he decided to ask Steve something else. 

“You’re taking the fact that you’re in another universe rather well.” James pointed out, with not a little suspicion. 

“Well,” Steve smirked, but his burns made the expression fall somewhat flat, “when you’re fighting a war against a giant space grape who wants to kill half the universe with a set of glowing magical rocks...” Steve shrugged. “It kinda puts things in perspective, to be honest. Travel between universes isn’t so strange after all that. And,” Steve admitted, “it’s better than being dead.” 

James had to agree with that, but - 

“I’m sorry, but…are you talking about Thanos?” Steve flinched at the name, his blue eyes wide. 

“You - you know of him?” 

Nodding, James leaned closer to the bed. “Yeah, after Loki came to Earth and told us about his plan, Nick contacted Captain Danvers and she dealt with him before he could become a problem. Are you telling me -” James swallowed, “In your universe, Thanos got all the Stones?” 

God, that thought made James want to shiver in fear; he’d heard Loki talk about Thanos and how he destroyed planets without mercy. To think that Thanos could have gotten all the stones and done the same to them…James couldn’t imagine the devastation it would cause. 

“Yeah he did, and he snapped half the universe away.” Steve grinned viciously. “But Thor beheaded him, and I grabbed the Infinity Stone gauntlet and brought them all back.” Steve chuckled. “Thought to myself: “If I’m going to die anyway, might as well make my last moments on Earth count and do one last good thing.’” 

“So, you saved the entire universe.” James said, his voice full of awe. Steve clearly noticed because he blushed and got that ‘aw, shucks’ look that Grant used to have when Peggy hit on him. “That’s…incredible, Steve.” 

“I just did what was right.” Steve protested, and James shook his head, smiling. 

“I don’t know if I’d ever have the courage or strength to do what you did, pal.” He admitted. 

“Of course you would, James.” Natasha’s sudden appearance made both men look to the door, where she was leaning casually against the wall. 

“Natasha?” Steve breathed, and Tasha smiled sympathetically. 

“Not your Natasha, Grant.” She told him gently, and Steve wrinkled his nose. 

“My name is Steve.” He complained, “Why do you two call me Grant?” 

“That’s what my Steve liked to be called,” James told him about Grant’s father and Steve nodded, looking thoughtful. 

“Anyway, in other news.” Natasha drawled. “Tony said he’s gotten in contact with a - and I quote: ‘Genius teenager in Wakanda’ - and he says they’re both working on recreating the portal that took Grant.” 

Steve gasped, and they both looked at him. 

“He’s in my world?” 

Natasha nodded her head coolly. “As far as we can tell with the readings we have, yes. I’m guessing there’s someone who can handle him on the other end?” 

“Well, yeah.” Steve said slowly, “Especially if he landed in Wakanda.” 

“Why’s that?” James asked, wondering what that had to do with anything, “How can Wakanda deal with an unstable super-assassin with four metal limbs?” 

“Four -” Steve wheezed, looking beyond pale, then shook his head. “You know what? I’m not gonna even go there, but yes. Wakanda is where my Bucky recovered. He was able to heal there and regain his own mind. Bucky should still be there too, so if anyone would be able to help ... Grant ... it would be him and Shuri.” 

“Shuri?” Natasha asked, and Steve smiled. 

“Yeah, she would be the genius teenager from Wakanda your Stark is talking about. She was a huge help in Bucky’s recovery, and they became fast friends. Also,” Steve smirked. “Shuri is the Princess of Wakanda: Second in line for the throne.” 

James gaped at that. 

“Like, a real princess?” 

“Yup,” Steve smiled, “though you wouldn’t guess it, talking to her. She’s a normal teenager. Well,” Steve conceded, “a normal teenager and probably the smartest person on the planet.” 

“Why thank you Captain Rogers, I am very flattered.” All three of them jumped at the unexpected voice, but James noticed Steve had a large grin on his face. 

Projected on the screen in the med bay was a teenager from Wakanda. 

“How old are you?” James blurted, and the girl on the screen pouted. 

“Seventeen.” She sniffed, and Steve laughed. 

“Try again Shuri, and this time take off a couple of years.” 

The girl narrowed her eyes at Steve, and James felt a moment of panic that Steve just talked back to royalty, - what the actual fuck? - but then he saw she was trying and failing to hide a smile, and he relaxed. 

“I like you.” She finally said, and Steve grinned, his burnt face lighting up. 

“I’m glad,” Steve rasped, and Shuri frowned. 

“If you were in Wakanda, I would be able to heal you overnight. Your white people tech is so old it makes me cringe.” Turning up her nose, she added, “I have no idea how you manage.” 

Tony strode into the room, shooting a glare at the screen. 

“How did you get past JARVIS?” He demanded, and the princess smirked but didn’t answer. 

“Let’s focus on getting our respective Rogers’ switched again, shall we?” James cut in, giving the two geniuses stern looks, causing both of them to pout in return. 

“Yes, Captain.” Shuri nodded, before turning to address Steve. “You said that you used the stones, and that is when they sent you here?” 

“Yes,” Steve agreed, with a rueful look at his injuries, “but as you can see, it almost killed me. I’d like to avoid that happening again, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course.” Shuri scoffed, “Did my other self ever give you any reason to doubt?” 

James snickered as Steve blushed, “Of course not. I’m sorry, Princess Shuri.” 

“Do not worry about it, Nomad.” Shuri said with a wave of her hand, and Steve winced a little. James noticed he didn’t look too upset at the nickname, though. 

“Nomad?” Steve asked, and Shuri nodded with a grin. 

“Yes. You are a traveler to our universe - without a home - but you are settled here, for now. It seemed fitting.” 

Steve smiled. “I like it.” Steve told her, “I might just keep it.” 

“What,” Tony snarked, “‘Captain America’ not enough for you?” James didn’t miss Steve’s obvious flinch, and apparently neither did Tony. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have -” Tony muttered but Steve shook his head with a sigh, looking at them with old, tired eyes. 

“It’s fine, Tony.” Steve told him gently, “It’s just…a long story; I gave up Captain America some time ago.” 

“Oh.” Tony said, voice small. “Then…who is Captain America now?” 

Steve didn’t answer, just shook his head again sadly and changed the subject; James however was intrigued. What could have happened to make Steve put down the Shield? To give up being Cap? 

“The stones are very powerful, and I think if I didn’t have the serum when I activated them, I wouldn’t have survived. Even Thanos was weakened after using them, and that was probably the only reason we were able to kill him.” 

“So, we need to recreate the travel effects of the portal but without the damage the stones did to you.” Shuri nodded, “This would be much easier if you came to Wakanda, Stark; you would have access to our tech to help fix this.” 

James raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m pretty sure Wakanda is strictly closed to outsiders, ma’am.” He pointed out, “I don’t think your father would want us there.” 

“The King has already granted permission for four of you to enter Wakanda; but only four.” 

“Tasha.” James spoke, and Steve nodded, agreeing with him. 

“A Natasha of any world would skin us alive if we left her behind.” 

“Exactly.” James shuddered, “I choose life.” 

“What about Bruce?” Tony pointed out, and Shuri shook her head. 

“I already offered Dr. Banner a place in our labs here over a year ago, but he refused because of his condition. He didn’t want to place anyone in danger.” 

Tony opened his mouth, an indignant look on his face, but James cut him off with a glare. 

“For once, can’t you just accept the man’s decision, and let him make his own choices here, Tony? He doesn’t want to go; let him feel safe.” 

Tony drooped, and nodded. “Yeah, fine.” He pouted. “We’ll leave Jolly Green at home. JARVIS will keep an eye on him.” 

“Indeed sir.” Came JARVIS’ dry voice. 

“So, it’s a date!” Shuri clapped her hands in glee.

  


* * *

  



	11. Chapter 11

  


* * *

  


“Are you sure letting him out is a smart idea?” Sam shrugged when Bucky glared at him and raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. It was only a month and a half ago that the guy arrived and straight up tried to kill you; are you sure he’s trustworthy enough to be outside?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s not gonna be left unsupervised, Sam. I’m not an idiot.” 

Bucky knew that Sam was fully aware of this. He'd been there when Bucky had proposed his plan to give Grant more freedom while they waited, before preparing for the trip to Grant’s universe. 

There had been more than a few protests at Bucky’s idea at first, but Bucky explained that he wasn’t going to give their universal traveller free rein of the place. 

What he suggested was simple; Grant would be allowed to move from his cell into Steve’s old room, where the walls were reinforced vibranium, and when in the room the door would be guarded by a Dora. When Grant wanted to leave the room to explore, he would be accompanied by either one of the team and one Dora, or two members of the Dora, depending on who was available. Off-limits areas included the labs, and anywhere that contained weapons or children. 

While Bucky trusted that Grant wouldn’t hurt a child while he was in his right mind, Bucky knew all too well the dangers of flashbacks. Grant might not be fully aware of his actions, and Bucky couldn’t take the chance of that happening around civilians. 

Bucky was hesitant to let Grant near his goats at first, but decided from personal experience that if Grant did have an episode, he wouldn’t see the goats as a threat. If they were ever faced with the worst-case scenario, they were now more easily able to contain him thanks to Bucky’s next concession. 

Grant’s metal limbs - all four of them - would be tinkered with, and the power of them reduced. He would still be strong thanks to the serum, but a team of Bucky and one of the Dora Milaje could handle him. 

Grant would not be able to leave the palace grounds, unless he was accompanied by three Dora and two members of the team at all times. The area that he could visit beyond the palace included the local market, the boundaries of the village where Bucky used to live outside the city, and his little hut. That region was relatively empty, with only the occasional curious visitor now that Bucky no longer lived there, and the fascinating sight of the White Wolf was gone. Just to be safe, T’Challa blocked off the area with the same force-field that surrounded the Wakandan border. One of those escorting Grant would be able to turn off a section of the field to enter, and close it again once they were in or out. 

Everyone seemed accepting of the idea by the end, which made Sam asking again if he was certain about this more than a bit annoying. 

“I know.” Sam assured him, and Bucky raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’m just saying that once you go through with this, you can’t take it back; Grant will never trust you again if you take this freedom away from him.” 

“I’m aware of that. That’s why I’m not going to take it back.” 

“What if he regresses? What if he attacks someone?” 

“Then we snap him out of it, and we make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

Sam just gave him a Look and dropped the subject, letting Bucky walk past him out of the conference room.

  


* * *

  


“…and this is your room from now on.” Bucky sighed, eyeing Grant as he stalked around the room, double-checking everything from top to bottom. 

“There are cameras.” Grant noted, eyeing the four discreet lenses that covered every angle of the space. 

“Yup.” Bucky nodded, “One of the conditions is that unless you’re in the bathroom - where we still monitor your vitals and some audio - you're watched by security at all times.” 

“Then it is still a cell,” Grant pointed out, “only bigger. With some freedom to move.” 

“Yes.” Bucky said bluntly. “You can go into any area that we discussed, but you're going to be monitored and accompanied at all times.” 

Grant and Bucky held each others’ gaze for a few tense moments, and Bucky found himself wondering whether Sam was right, and this wasn’t such a good idea after all, before Grant finally backed down, his eyes drifting towards the floor. His posture changed, shoulders hunched in defeat. 

“It is a smart idea. You should not trust me.” 

“We don’t trust you. Not completely; not yet.” Bucky told him. “It’s up to you whether you want to work on that.” 

“You say that like it could be a possibility, in the future.” Grant scoffed, but Bucky could see the sadness in his eyes. 

“Of course it is.” Bucky smiled at the disbelieving look that Grant gave him when he answered. “Look at me: I was in a similar situation not that long ago.” 

“But they knew you - or they knew of you, from your…Steve.” 

Bucky conceded that with a nod. “Yes, they did. But things change, Grant. People change.” 

“Will I even be here long enough for that to happen?” Grant asked, and Bucky shrugged, not knowing the answer. 

“I have no idea, but there’s no harm in trying in case you’re here for a while, is there?” 

“I suppose not.” Grant reluctantly muttered. “Will you be my primary handler?” 

Bucky flinched noticeably, and Grant winced, ducking his head. 

“Sorry, I don’t…of course you wouldn’t want me, of all people.” 

“No!” Bucky scrambled to reassure the other man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. “No. It’s just,” Bucky scowled, “you don’t have handlers anymore; we’re not HYDRA. Think of them as…bodyguards.” 

Grant frowned. “But I can take care of myself.” 

“Bodyguards for everyone else.” Bucky told him, trying to be gentle. He knew he failed when he saw Grant’s forehead pinch and his eyes gain just a little more sadness. 

“Oh.” Grant said, his voice small, “I see.” 

“It’s for everyone’s safety.” Bucky told him, “If you attacked someone, I bet when you came out of it, you would be hurt too - emotionally.” 

Grant nodded, and they lapsed into silence, before Grant pointed to the bed. 

“What is that?” he was pointing at a stuffed wolf that looked like it had eaten too much, or possibly been inflated with a bicycle pump. 

“That,” Bucky chuckled, “is Shuri’s idea of a joke.” 

“I…should I laugh?” Grant looked so adorably confused that Bucky was desperate to hug him, but he managed to restrain himself with an impeccable demonstration of self-control. 

“It’s a stuffed animal. You’re supposed to cuddle it, but you don’t…have to…” Bucky trailed off as Grant strode over to the bed, grabbed the stuffed wolf and crushed it to his chest and under his chin, squeezing his eyes shut with grim determination. 

“Like this?” Grant asked, voice muffled by fluffy fabric and stuffing, and Bucky nodded dumbly, his jaw hitting the floor. 

“Yeah, exactly like that.” Bucky choked out at last, and Grant opened one eye lazily, his face now relaxed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky tried to keep his voice as normal as possible, and he apparently succeeded because Grant hummed and closed his eye again, squeezing the round wolf and looking more peaceful and relaxed by the moment. 

Bucky couldn’t help but internally scream at the adorable sight, and he was completely unashamed; even Nick Fury would lose it in the face of the Winter Soldier acting so soft. 

Grant suddenly put down the stuffy and turned to Bucky, a hopeful look on his face. 

“Can I go outside?” He looked out the sealed window of his room into the bright sunshine. “It’s so warm and… I haven’t felt the sun in a long time.” 

Bucky felt a pang of sympathy in his chest for the man. They’d had him locked in that cell for almost two months now, and even before then he doubted HYDRA had ever given him time to just stand and enjoy the sun on his face. Grant was even paler than Steve from when he was small and skinny, and that was saying something. The man clearly needed some Vitamin D. 

“Of course.”

  


* * *

  


Bucky watched from a few feet away while Grant sat on the grass in a new pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The man had his head thrown back, tilted toward the sun. His hair was tightly bound into a braid and bun at the back of his neck, and Bucky realized with a jolt this was the most peace he had seen on that face – Steve's or Grant’s - in over seventy years. 

Bucky felt grateful that he was able to give this man some measure of peace, even from something as simple as spending a few hours in the sun. Grant had protested wearing the shorts and t-shirt at first, but Bucky pointed out that he would overheat his metal limbs if he kept them fully covered. Grant had argued that people wouldn’t like the sight of his prosthetics. Bucky had argued right back that nobody would care, since they had all seen him practically naked anyway when they brought him in, to which Grant went a startling shade of beet red and dropped the subject, putting on the clothing without further argument. 

Bucky guessed that a couple months of healing from HYDRA brainwashing caused Grant to be more self-conscious of his body than usual, because Bucky had certainly never been shy, and HYDRA and the Army had trained what was left right out of him. 

Both Bucky and two of the Dora Milaje were observing Grant basking in the sun that he had been denied for decades, and Bucky couldn’t shake the creeping feeling of déjà vu. 

Carefully ambling over to Grant, making sure his footsteps were audible, Bucky sat down beside the larger man, and didn’t say anything at first, just tilted his own head up, enjoying the warmth on his face and the fresh air that still, even years later, seemed sometimes like a dream. 

“I get how you feel.” Bucky murmured, and Grant hummed a question in reply. 

“Being free, even a little. It’s amazing, right?” Bucky didn’t open his eyes, even when he heard Grant shift, and felt the other man’s eyes on him. 

“Yes, it is.” Grant said softly, and Bucky nodded. 

“Being able to sit out in the sun and just…soak up the warmth. It still feels like a dream sometimes, ya know? Sometimes I worry I’m gonna wake up and be coming outta cryo again, waiting for them to shove me back in that damn chair.” 

Grant made a wounded noise, and Bucky opened his eyes to look at him. He’d gone pale, and looked at Bucky with wide eyes. 

“They have a chair in this universe as well?” 

Bucky grinned ferally, and snarled, “Not anymore, they don’t.” 

Grant’s shoulders slumped with relief, and the tension in his body released. 

“Good.” The man sighed, “That’s good.” 

“Pretty sure I’ve taken out all of HYDRA by now anyway.” Bucky said with a smile, “I went a little bit nuts after I escaped. Took out every base I could get to, and what I couldn’t, Steve and Sam did.” He chuckled. “Good times.” 

“…You have a strange sense of humor.” 

“C’mon,” Bucky grinned, “you can’t tell me your James wasn’t similar.” 

Bucky realized his mistake a second too late when Grant’s face fell, grief filling his eyes. 

“…He was.” Grant croaked, “I wish…” 

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky winced, “I shouldn’t have said that, I - ” 

“No.” Grant snapped, then softened at Bucky’s sudden flinch. The two Dora behind them tensed minutely. “No, it’s okay, I…” Grant hesitated then sighed, shoulders slumping. 

“I can tell you about him, if you want?” Grant looked up through his lashes at Bucky, who bit his lip and chewed on it in thought. 

“You don’t have to.” Bucky protested, even though inside he was fascinated by the man who was him in another universe; who had become Captain America and, Bucky realized with a pang, was killed by the man who sat beside him. 

Bucky didn’t blame Grant, and he was sure James wouldn’t blame Grant either, if he was still alive. Bucky didn’t think there was a world in which James Buchanan Barnes could ever blame Steven Grant Rogers - any version of him - for doing what he did under those circumstances. 

“But I need to.” Bucky went to protest again, and Grant changed his wording with a firm, “I want to.” The stubborn set to his jaw was all-too familiar to Bucky, and he knew that Grant wouldn’t back down from this. 

“Okay then.” Bucky conceded, “Tell me about him; how did you two meet? Do you remember?” 

Grant nodded. 

“It’s a little fuzzy, but, yes, I do…”

  


* * *

* * *

  


Steven Grant ‘Grant’ Rogers was tall for his age. At 7 and a half years old he was the height of most 13-year-olds, and towered above most of his peers. Grant was popular and friendly, and every teacher adored their model student. 

So, it came as quite a surprise one day when it was Grant sitting bruised and bloody, nursing a black eye with one arm held protectively around skinny, sickly little James Barnes, who the teachers mostly pitied when they remembered his existence, and his fellow students bullied with regularity. The teachers didn’t have time to deal with their school’s new and angry addition; they already had so many children to watch, and from influential families at that. One unremarkable child getting teased didn’t often register on their radar. 

“Gilmore and his friends were beatin’ up James, sir.” Grant told the principal when he was asked to explain himself. “All he did was tell them to leave Sally alone, an’ they started wailin’ on him! It wasn’t right, sir! He’s only 5!” 

The principal agreed that Gilmore and his friends were in the wrong, but told Grant that he had to call his father about the scuffle. The principal didn’t notice the flash of fear that crossed Grant’s face when Rogers Sr was mentioned, but little James Barnes noticed. 

“I’ll protect you.” James whispered in Grant’s ear as they left the office, wrapping his skinny arms around as much of Grant’s waist as he could and giving a weak little squeeze. 

“Thanks pal,” Grant whispered back, “but I can get by on my own.” 

“But you don’t haf’ta now.” James pouted, “I’m here, ti’l the end a’ the line.” 

From that day on, Grant Rogers and James Barnes were attached at the hip. You never saw one without the other, and James was often dragged away from fights by his bigger, older best friend.

  


* * *

* * *

  


“Wait.” Bucky gasped, eyes wide. “James was the small one? Not you?” 

Grant looked confused and nodded. “Yes. Asthma, scoliosis, heart murmur… It would be faster to list the conditions in a medical dictionary that he didn’t have.” 

Bucky couldn’t wrap his brain around it. Him, in Steve’s place – Sick and small, getting into fights and being rescued by an athletic Steve who was healthy as a horse. 

“Was it different in this world?” Grant asked, and Bucky snorted a laugh, and nodded. 

“Hell yes.” Bucky replied, “My Steve was exactly like James, and I was more like you; our roles were completely reversed. I’m even older than Steve by two years - not younger.” 

Grant looked amused at this, then thoughtful. “I can’t imagine what that would be like,” He said, a smile tugging at his lips, “but if I could have switched our places so that James was healthier and I took some of his burdens away, I would have. I imagine the same could be said for you.” Grant tilted his head toward Bucky, who agreed wholeheartedly. 

“Oh, definitely. I would have swapped places with Stevie in a heartbeat.” 

They sat together for a few hours after that, talking about each other’s differing experiences in life; Bucky enjoying himself immensely as they wasted away the last of the daylight. 

When the sun started to go down, Bucky escorted Grant to his room and went back to his own, not even bothering to strip off his clothes or boots as he fell into bed. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

  


* * *

  



	12. Chapter 12

Scene Art by [LiquidLightz ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359062)(click link for AO3 art post)  


  


* * *

Arriving in Wakanda, Steve limped out of the plane, his good arm around Bu- James’ shoulder. Just like the first time Bucky had seen Wakanda, James’ face lit up in wonder as he looked around, stopping just outside the Quinjet ramp to gaze in awe at his surroundings. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve murmured to the stunned man, and James nodded absently. 

“It’s…incredible.” He breathed, eyes sparkling as a huge colorful bird flew by just a few feet from where they were standing. 

“Bucky found peace here.” Steve told him as they continued, only stopping to confirm their identities with this world’s version of Okoye and two other Dora Milaje. “Maybe your Steve will find the same.” 

“I hope so.” James murmured, eyes still flickering between every new and wondrous thing.

  


* * *

  


The group of four were immediately escorted to meet King T’Chaka and his son, Prince T’Challa; James had gone to bow but Steve stopped him with a shake of his head. 

“They don’t do that here.” Steve told James when he frowned at him. 

T’Chaka laughed at that, a twinkle in his eyes. “I see that you are aware of some of our customs, Captain Rogers.” T’Chaka smiled. “My daughter said that you are from another world in the future. I take this to mean that Wakanda is now open to outsiders in your universe?” 

Steve nodded, a stiff smile on his face. “In a matter of speaking, your Highness.” Steve licked his dry lips, trying not to wince at the pain that was becoming more apparent the longer he remained standing, held up only by James and his sheer stubbornness. 

“Ah.” The King frowned, a wrinkle in his brow. “I forget you are still gravely wounded. My apologies, Captain. If you would follow me, I will lead you to Shuri’s lab where you can be treated for your injuries.” 

It felt different, Steve mused, to be in a Wakanda where T’Challa was a prince and not a King. Steve was still a stranger in this land, not fully trusted and the guards were wary of him. 

Steve was used to the teasing banter between himself and Okoye, but as he glanced at her she showed no recognition in her face, focused only on guarding her King and warily watching the outsiders who had, in her eyes, possibly duped her King into letting them into the country. Steve couldn’t be certain of her thoughts, but the suspicion and subtle glares she sent the four of them made it clear she didn’t trust them. 

Steve didn’t blame her to be honest. It was her job, and no outsider had ever been granted entry into their lands before. The fact that James had on his back a Shield made of the same material that their country had in abundance, but outsiders were supposed to know nothing about didn’t much help. Steve was sure that the Howard Stark of this world hadn’t asked for permission to get the vibranium for the shield - any more than his Howard. 

James and Steve had talked about the Shield and its origins while on the plane, utilizing each other’s enhanced hearing to talk quietly enough not to be overheard by the other passengers. Steve knew that the Natasha and Tony of his world were trustworthy, and while James trusted his colleagues, they both agreed that the information was not theirs to share. The only reason Steve decided to discuss it with James was because his role as Captain America made him personally involved. 

Mutually, they both agreed that they would inform King T’Chaka of the Shield’s origins, and offered to return it to Wakanda. 

James was horrified at the possibility that the weapon he used with pride to protect people had been stolen from this country. Steve had reassured him that he couldn’t have known, and that the only thing they could do was give it back to its rightful owners. 

James however, decided on the condition that Steve would be healed first before they brought up the topic of the Shield with the King. Steve had tried to argue against that but ended up losing, wondering with a grim sense of irony if this was the type of stubborn that everybody else had told him was within himself. 

The journey to the lab was taken in silence, Tony uncharacteristically quiet and Natasha as silent and observant as ever, noting all the details she could about their surroundings. 

T’Chaka led them to where in Steve’s world Shuri’s lab was located, and he was unsurprised to find that Shuri had the same setup here. 

“Shuri!” The King called out when the passed through the sliding glass doors to the lab. “Your visitors have arrived.” 

How Shuri managed to hear her father over the loud music in the lab, Steve could only guess, but she immediately popped her head out from under a table with a giant grin on her face. 

Steve felt a pang of pain at the innocence on the young princess’s face. This Shuri hadn’t gone through what his Shuri had; not yet. Steve was hoping that she wouldn’t have to in this universe - he hoped that because of his presence, and the fact that the Staff was no longer on Earth - Ultron couldn’t be created and Zemo’s family would still be alive. He wouldn’t have a motive for revenge here. T’Chaka would avoid death at Zemo’s hands, and Shuri and T’Challa wouldn't have to grow up and grieve their father long before they were meant to. 

“You have brought me a broken white boy to fix!” Shuri gleefully clapped her hands, rushing up to Steve and looking up at him with twinkling, humor-filled eyes. Steve tried to smile back as much as he could, but James had shifted his grip on Steve and the smile turned into a pained grimace as his still broken bones, burns, and countless other injuries shrieked in protest, his face paling. 

Shuri lost her excited look and cried out, “Let’s get you healed, or soon you will no longer be a broken white boy, but a dead one.” 

“Shuri!” The King chided, looking stern. Steve laughed and tried not to wince when it hurt his ribs. 

“It’s alright, Your Highness, I’m used to my Shuri being the same way; I know she means no harm.” 

Steve limped painfully with James’ help up to the table that Steve knew would be covered in nanites the minute Shuri turned on the machine beside it, lying down with some assistance. 

“When you wake up Captain, you will be the picture of health.” Shuri promised, and Steve gave a worried-looking James a reassuring grin, before his eyes began to droop and he felt the airborne sedative nanites begin to work.

  


* * *

  


It had been a week since Grant had been freed from his cell, and Bucky was pleased with the progress he'd made now that his entire world consisted of more than a medium sized cell and a glass wall between him and the outside world. 

Grant had begun to smile more, and his interactions with people other than Bucky (that mostly consisted of the Team, T’Challa, and Shuri) became less robotic and forced over time, and more friendly, if still hesitant. His interactions with Bucky however, were always warm and friendly; the two of them were now fast friends as if they had known each other their whole lives, instead of their alternate universe counterparts. 

Bucky tried to always be one of the people who accompanied Grant when he left his room. The guards had observed that Grant was much more comfortable and less reserved when Bucky was there, and Bucky didn't want to refuse the man any type of comfort, no matter how small. 

Bucky understood that he was the only familiar face around besides Natasha, and even she made Grant nervous most of the time. The last time Grant had seen her, she was seventeen years old and he'd freed her from the Red Room. Seeing a girl so important to him now all grown up who showed no signs of recognition - just icy tolerance at best - unsettled Grant, much to Bucky’s dismay. 

Bucky couldn’t understand Natasha’s strange attitude toward Grant, so at the first opportunity he tracked her down to talk to her. 

Nat was sitting on the grass in one of the palace gardens, petting one of the rabbits that roamed freely in them, a small smile on her face. Bucky hadn’t seen her smile –sincerely since... a long time before their battle, so Bucky was hesitant at first to interrupt her peace. 

But the memory of Grant mentioning off-handedly that Natasha didn’t have to spend time with him - that he would just stay in his rooms when she was the only one available to supervise him - kept rolling around in Bucky’s mind; Grant had tried to hide the hurt he felt at Natasha’s cool behavior towards him, but he’d gotten increasingly less able to hide his emotions the more memories he gained back and the more his brain healed. 

Sitting down beside Natasha, Bucky huffed out a sigh. The Rabbit darted away the minute Bucky sat, startled by the sudden appearance of a bigger, and more dangerous human. 

“Do you need something, Yasha?” Natasha said, hand dropping from where it was raised to pet the rabbit. 

“Why do you hate Grant?” Bucky didn’t bother mincing words. Natasha wouldn’t appreciate it if he tried to ease into the topic, and Bucky wasn’t really willing to dance around it anyway. 

Natasha scoffed, looking away from him, and Bucky knew that she wouldn’t admit it outright. 

“I don’t hate him, Yasha.” 

Bucky leaned back on his arms, crossing his ankles and gave her a look that told her exactly how much he believed her - that is to say, not at all. 

“Right, and the fact that you haven’t spoken a word to him other than when you bluntly told him about his travel from a different universe - which by the way made Sam almost have a conniption - is just…what? Your version of friendship?” 

The birds chirped in the trees and Bucky could hear the distant cry of a monkey; Wakanda was a peaceful place, and Bucky had always found relaxation there, but the tension in the air right now had Bucky fidgeting; the damaged and scarred muscles in his left shoulder ached. 

“I have nothing to say to him.” Natasha’s glare told him to drop it, but Bucky wasn’t willing to let this go; not when it hurt Grant enough that he’d bothered to mention it - even in passing. 

“Natasha.” Bucky snapped, tired of her evasion tactics, “What the hell is your problem with Grant? Stop bullshitting and just come out and say it.” 

“There’s nothing -” 

“Don’t. Lie. To me.” Bucky growled and Natasha snapped, turning to him with a snarl, 

“He killed you, Yasha!” She glared at him, and Bucky was taken aback to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “And he killed them - my sisters - her sisters. Then he comes here and he tries to kill you again and he looks like him - he's not Steve, but he shares the face of the man who saved my life multiple times and a man I love like my own little brother and I can’t -” Her voice cut off, and she raised a shaking hand to her mouth, shoulders hitching. 

“Oh, Natalia.” Bucky murmured, his chest aching to see her in pain. He didn’t hesitate to bring her into his arms and tuck her head under his chin. “I'm so sorry I didn’t notice your suffering.” 

“I hid it from you.” She rasped, and sniffed, “I know it’s not his fault, but I look at him and he looks like Steve, and he’s not - he doesn’t recognize me as me, just the woman he spared from death or another version of his… of his goddamn daughter.” Natasha rarely swore, so Bucky was surprised, but he didn't blame her, given the circumstances. “How can I talk to him when all I see when I look at him is a twisted version of Steve, who I thought was dead?” 

Bucky was quiet for a while as he tried to gather together the words he wanted to say, not wanting to make the situation worse or upset Natasha further. 

“He’s not Steve.” He told her at last. “He will never be Steve. They both lived very different lives, and had different experiences. Grant has gone through things that Steve never has; things that he's told me in awful detail. I don’t blame him for killing the other me - I don’t even blame him for killing the girls that I would've liked to meet one day. I know how impossible it was to break from conditioning until Steve came back into my life. I know that if it wasn’t for Steve, I would never have escaped - and the world would have been a much darker place.” 

“But Grant still killed Captain America – he killed you.” Natasha pointed out. “He didn’t break free.” 

“From what Grant's told me, HYDRA had a much stronger hold on him than this world’s HYDRA had on me. They used the Tesseract on him, and the only reason he was able to even come close to breaking free was that after Loki in their world warned them of Thanos, the Stones were all destroyed, including the Tesseract; which meant that the hold would have slowly lost its power. Unfortunately,” Bucky sighed, “It only fully left him once he entered this world. According to Shuri, she thinks the energy of the portal he came through destroyed the influence of the Tesseract from his world, since the stone’s signature was different.” 

“I just…” Natasha moved from his arms, and he let her go. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, before turning to him. “I’m tired, Yasha. I want Steve back, and I want to rest.” 

“I know, Natalia.” Bucky murmured. “I know.”

  


* * *

  



	13. Chapter 13

  


* * *

  


In the end, they didn’t have to wait as long as they thought they would for the right conditions. 

Bucky’s phone rang, and when he saw Shuri’s name on the screen he answered it with a slight tremor in his hand and cold nerves pooling inside his heart. 

“It’s ready. Come to my lab.” Shuri hung up, and Bucky stared at the phone dumbly for a few moments before shaking himself and rushing around, grabbing everything he had previously packed. 

Shooting a quick text to Nat to tell her to meet him at the lab ready to go, he dashed out of the room.

  


* * *

  


By the time Bucky realized what was happening, he was standing in the same room that Grant had arrived in only 6 months ago, fully packed and wearing his most subtle combat gear. 

Ultimately it was decided that Natasha and Bucky would go by themselves; Clint had been on a mission earlier that week and had a broken leg and arm, and Shuri informed Tony that if something went wrong, she needed him in order to help her fix it so he had to stay behind. He wasn’t happy about it, but he conceded her point. 

So, it was just the two of them. 

“Are you ready for this?” Natasha murmured, and Bucky let out a shaky breath. 

“No,” He admitted, “but I don’t think I ever will be, really. So...” 

Nodding, Natasha turned her eyes back to the place where - they hoped - the portal would soon appear. 

“Now, we can keep the portal open a crack for just a few days.” Shuri warned them, “A bit like a door.” 

“But if you guys don’t get back in time, it’s gonna slam in your faces like a scorned woman.” Tony joked. Shuri rolled her eyes. 

“Nothing should be able to pass through until we open it fully from this end, so when you are ready, use the signal beacons we gave you while standing in the spot where the portal opened on the other side, and the signal should reach us and tell us you are ready to return.” 

“Right.” Bucky nodded, “Simple. We just have to survive whatever’s on the other side, first.” 

“Good luck.” Shuri and Tony looked at them solemnly, and Natasha and Bucky nodded back. 

It was only a few minutes later that the machines began beeping frantically, and that familiar, white light began to glow in front of them. 

Sharing a look, they stepped through the portal together. 

Entering the portal was a lot easier than exiting it, they discovered when they felt themselves free-falling, ducking and rolling on instinct. Bucky couldn’t help but compare his entrance to this world to Grant’s arrival in his own. 

Once the ringing in his ears died down, Bucky heard the whines of familiar repulsors and looked up right into the palm of a familiar red and gold gauntlet. 

Raising his hands in surrender, Bucky looked to his left and saw Natasha being held at gunpoint by - Natasha? 

“Who the hell are you?” Came Stark’s modulated voice from within the suit, and Bucky swallowed hard and opened his mouth to answer when he heard a sharp cry and a voice call out: 

“Bucky?!”

  


* * *

  


“Steve.” Bucky breathed, eyes wide. 

And it was Steve: his Steve. Beard, shaggy hair and eyes that didn’t show the horrors that came from being a prisoner of HYDRA. 

“Stark, let him go!” 

“But…!” 

“Do as he says.” Came a firm voice - his own voice, and Bucky shifted his vision to look to Steve’s left and was met with his own face, only with shorter hair and less haunted eyes. 

“Wow, that’s trippy.” Bucky huffed, and to his right Natasha nodded agreement, still in a stare off- sans guns now - with her own alternate. 

“Just a bit.” She agreed. 

Bucky grunted as he felt the impact of 240 pounds of beefy super-soldier plow into his chest, and he staggered as Steve wrapped his arms around him in a crushing embrace. 

“I thought you were dead!” Bucky sniffed, and Steve nodded. 

“So did I.” He admitted. 

“Well I’m glad you’re both alive and reuniting and all,” James smiled, “but I’d really like to know where my Grant is.” 

Suddenly, James’ presence, Alive and goddamn breathing, hit Bucky like a two-ton truck. 

“Wait, you’re supposed to be dead!” Bucky cried, and Natasha looked just as confused, though he could see the relief on her face as well. 

“Turns out the serum made me immortal.” James shrugged, “Now, where is Grant?” 

“He’s back in our universe.” Natasha told James. “He thinks he killed you. Permanently.” She amended. 

“So, he decided to stay there.” James muttered. 

“Why don’t you let us go back, and bring our Steve back, and we will send Grant back when we do?” 

“How do we know we can trust you to do that?” Tasha looked at them distrustfully, and Steve addressed her. 

“You can trust me, okay? I promise you; I will make sure he gets back.” 

“Then go.” James nodded, looking at Steve with a smile. “You can go home now too, pal.” 

Steve nodded, and Bucky watched as Steve went and hugged the other man, then pulled away. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until we get him back.” 

“How can I?” James smirked, “When you’re taking all the stupid with you?”

  


* * *

  


“You’re alive.” Grant rasped, looking at a dead man. 

When the person wearing a face identical to his own had told him that James was still alive, Grant had punched him, furious that the man dared to lie about something so personal. But Steve had got back up on his feet and simply repeated the same thing again - that the serum had made James immortal. He promised it was the truth and that he had seen James with his own eyes, and so had Bucky. Grant decided to trust them; Bucky had never lied to him before. 

And he was right. 

“Do you remember me?” James asked him, his face hopeful, and Grant nodded. 

“Your Ma’s name was Winnie; you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” 

James’ hugs felt like sunshine, Grant observed; sunshine, and home. 

He heard the portal to Bucky’s world snap shut behind him, and he closed his eyes, knowing that he was finally home. Now, he could rest.

  


* * *

  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: Who the Hell is Steve?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196757) by [LiquidLightz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLightz/pseuds/LiquidLightz)
  * [Art: 2 Captains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359062) by [LiquidLightz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLightz/pseuds/LiquidLightz)


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